


Thirty-one Days of McHanzo

by SadinaSaphrite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Drabble Collection, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Fluff, M/M, Noodle Dragons, Oh man there is so much fluff in here, Or even got a revision or second draft, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This is as dabble drabbly as we get, WereMcHanzo is in Chapter 4 Only, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Whole bunch of background characters in chapter 20, Winston shows up in Chapter 19, none of this is beta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 22,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadinaSaphrite/pseuds/SadinaSaphrite
Summary: A collection of Holiday, Winter, or general McHanzo drabbles in response toPureMcHanzo's31 Days of McHanzo prompts. Additional credit toXmasPromptsfor the original prompt list.Most daily drabbles are under 1k words each, though I might get carried away!





	1. Welcome Home

Nine weeks hadn’t seemed like a long time when Hanzo had agreed to the infiltration mission in Russia, but as he stepped off the Orca and onto the Gibraltar tarmac, he finally realized just how much he’d missed the Watchpoint. The mission had been challenging in all the best ways, forcing him to utilize all his skills to complete his objective, and though Yekatrinburg had been beautiful, he was grateful to feel the ocean breeze against his skin and see the familiar faces of the new Overwatch around him.

He greeted each agent who stopped to welcome him back, though there was one face in particular he was hoping to see, and felt a growing disappointment when he didn’t appear. Wondering if his counterpart was off on another assignment, Hanzo gave his report to Winston and retreated to his quarters, planning to get some rest despite his dwindling hope that his partner was somewhere on the base, perhaps oblivious to his return.

Hanzo opened the door to his room and found himself engulfed by the familiar scent of sage and cedar as warm arms pulled him into an embrace.

“Sorry about not greeting ya right off the ship, darlin’,” McCree’s soothing voice drawled into his ear. “Didn’t want gawking eyes when I gave you a more personal greeting.”

“Hm…” Hanzo frowned in contemplation, though his bright eyes betrayed how his heart soared. “I may find it in myself to forgive you, depending on the greeting you had in mind.”

McCree silenced him with a kiss, tasting of smoke and sandalwood, pulling Hanzo close and tangling his fingers in his dark hair. Hanzo melted into his embrace, returning the kiss with the passion of a man who’d spent two months alone, then gently pulled away, humming against the sunkissed skin.

“Hmph. I suppose that’s a start.”

McCree grinned wide. “Welcome home, darlin’.”


	2. Cold Weather

“Darlin’, you know I love you more’n life itself, but I fail to understand how you are not freezing to death at this very moment. I’d also like to know what kind of damn magic you’re using to prevent said eminent frozen demise, and beg you t’share it with your poor, frost-bitten boyfriend.”

Hanzo stood with his hands in the pockets of his canvas jacket and gave McCree a surprised look. 

“It’s only snow,” he said, taking a bare hand out of a pocket to catch one of the falling snowflakes. “It isn’t even windy.”

McCree made a distressed noise. “I don’t even want to think about this hellstorm with _wind._ ”

Hanzo stared at McCree, then looked back at the fat, fluffy snowflakes gently drifting around them, calmly blanketing the world in clean, calming white. “…Hellstorm?”

McCree huffed in response. While Hanzo wore only jeans, boots, and a canvas jacket, McCree was bundled up to his ears, wearing sweater and sweatshirt underneath his thick down coat, a glove on his right hand, hat stubbornly set atop his head, and long johns beneath everything. Only a sliver of McCree was visible, brown eyes peeking out at Hanzo from under his hat and over the top of the serape, wrapped tight around McCree’s neck and face up to his nose, muffling his voice.

“Did I stutter?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hanzo didn’t bother to hide his smile and looked back out over the snowy landscape. “I suppose there isn’t much snow in New Mexico. Though I would think you would have gotten used to the cold after all the time you spent in Zurich.”

“Watchpoint: Zurich had a fantastic heating system. And just ‘cause I endured the cold don’t mean I got used to it,” McCree’s eyes scowled at the snow piling up on his shoulders and turned away. “C’mon. We’d better get inside before we both come down with hypothermia.”

“Why?” Hanzo asked innocently, unable to resist. “It’s quite nice out here.”

“ _Nice?_ ” McCree spun on his spurred heel and looked incredulously at Hanzo. “You think it’s _nice_ out here?”

“Of course,” Hanzo deliberately didn’t look at him, watching the snow instead. “It’s quite peaceful.”

“O’course it’s peaceful! That’s because everything else has frozen to death!”

“Mm,” Hanzo hummed noncommittally. “And here I thought the weather would cool down some of your hot air.”

Hanzo could tell McCree was giving him a Look, but elected to ignore it. For a moment, he was almost able to hide his amused smile from McCree.

“You really telling me you ain’t cold?” 

“It’s a little brisk, but yes. I am quite comfortable.”

McCree’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “You lookin’ for me to fix that?”

“Pardon?”

Without further warning, McCree pulled his ungloved, prosthetic hand out of his pocket and shoved it up under Hanzo’s coat and shirt, slapping the metal hand against Hanzo’s bare back.

The sound that ripped itself from Hanzo’s throat wasn’t quite a shriek, but it was something very close, and managed to pull away after a brief scramble.

“ _Jesse!_ What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Eyes sparkling, McCree tipped his hat, then turned and ran. He didn’t even mind the snowball that pelted him in the back of the head as he ran back indoors.

Worth it.


	3. Baking

Hanzo woke to the smell of ginger and cinnamon, faint, yet undeniably permeating his room. He yawned, stretched languidly, then set about his morning routine. As he threw on his jogging clothing, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself wandering toward the kitchen instead of going out for his usual morning run. The smell of ginger and cinnamon grew stronger, adding in the smell of fruit and sugar as he grew closer. Soft humming reached his ears and he couldn’t help a small smile as he recognized the voice.

“Good morning,” Hanzo greeted, stepping into the kitchen.

McCree’s smile stretched to his ears. “G’mornin’, sweetpea. How’re you doing?”

“Quite well,” Hanzo replied. “I came to see what you were making before going on my run. I could smell it all the way in my room.”

McCree chuckled. “I’ll take that as a warning. As everyone else wakes up, they’ll all wander in here, too.” To his right was a sizable pile of peeled and cored apples and a large bowl of brown, syrupy liquid. His plaid shirt was rolled up to the elbows as he sliced his way through an apple, mixing the slices in the glaze, and laid them out in a set of baking pans.

“Well, are you going to tell me what you’re making, then? Or leave my curiosity unsatisfied?” Hanzo snagged an apple slice from McCree’s fingers and popped it into his mouth.

“Oh, I’d never dare to leave you unsatisfied,” McCree countered with a smirk. 

Hanzo rolled his eyes and snatched another slice of apple.

“Ginger and cinnamon baked apples,” Jesse continued when he saw he wasn’t going to get any more of a rise out of Hanzo. “Reinhardt bought a shitload of apples during the last supply run because they were on sale. Thing is, Christmas is in a few weeks and so over half the Watchpoint is leaving to be home for the holidays, so all those apples are gonna spoil. Figured I’d make a few apple bakes, and any leftovers can be frozen and used for pie filling later.”

Hanzo grabbed a third apple slice and dipped it in the glaze, moving fast enough to avoid McCree trying to slap his hand away.

“Huh,” he mused, leaning back against the counter. “I hadn’t considered that agents would be leaving. How many will be staying?”

“Not many,” McCree subtly put himself between Hanzo and the apples. “Winston, obviously. He lives here, after all, and sticks out like a sore thumb anywhere else. Also says it’s his duty as commander to keep an eye on things, in case there’s an emergency and everyone needs to be called back in. Mei was gonna stay, but Aleksandra invited her Moscow to meet her family. Not sure about Zenyatta and your brother, but it sounded like they had plans. Everyone else is leaving.”

“What about you?” Hanzo went for another apple slice, but was deflected by Jesse’s prosthetic hand.

“Aw, hell. You know I got nowhere to go. I’ll be staying to keep Winston company. Ain’t nobody should be alone on Christmas. Especially someone who’s been alone for so long.” 

Hanzo’s expression softened and he pushed off the counter to slide an arm around McCree’s waist. 

“The same could be said about you,” he said, leaning into him and resting his head against his shoulder. “I’ll be staying as well.” 

“Aw, pumpkin…” Jesse gave him a warm look. “That’s the best gift a fella could ask for.”

“Especially…” Hanzo kissed Jesse’s cheek and used the motion as a distraction, allowing him to snag another slice of glazed apple. “…if you keep making me treats like this!”

McCree tried to snatch the apple out of Hanzo’s hand, but the archer danced out of reach.

“You traitorous apple thief!”

Laughing, Hanzo slipped from the kitchen, heading out for his morning jog.


	4. Full Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was telling my roommate about the 31 Days of McHanzo prompts, and she proceeded to tell me that if I didn’t do Werewolf McCree for “Full Moon,” then I was a coward. I tried to tell her that these were primarily winter and holiday prompts, but she was having none of it. I might have also caved a little too eagerly. So here we are. Enjoy some WereMcHanzo.

“Are you ready, Jesse?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Hanzo rose to his feet and cleared the table, putting away the leftovers and starting on the dishes. It was normal. Routine. Going through the motions of a normal evening to help ease Jesse’s nerves. McCree, to his credit, had managed to resist pacing this time, and instead remained in his seat at the dining room table, bouncing his leg anxiously and staring out the window, watching the night sky.

“It’s coming. I can feel it, Han. It’s coming.”

“Moonrise isn’t for another twenty-three minutes, Jesse. We still have some time, don’t worry.”

McCree _snarled_ and bolted to his feet fast enough to knock the chair over and send it skidding across the floor. 

“We need to go. We need to go _now._ ”

Hanzo didn’t bat an eye, merely drying his hands off and setting the rest of the dishes down in the sink. He knew it wasn’t Jesse snarling at him, but the Wolf, itching beneath his skin and pushing closer to the surface than any other time of the month, bleeding into Jesse’s behaviors.

“Alright, Jesse. We can go,” he said calmingly. “Don’t worry. We’ve done this before.”

Jesse fidgeted, unable to hold still as Hanzo strode toward him, barely able to wait long enough for Hanzo to reach him before throwing open the basement door and bolting downstairs. Hanzo smoothly locked the fortified door behind them, threw the deadbolts, and strode down after him.

“Locked?” McCree asked, finally unable to resist pacing the length of the small room.

The basement consisted of a single room, small and sparsely furnished, with only a mattress in one corner, a locked steel footlocker in the opposite corner, and a large number of rugs and blankets to cover the concrete floor.

“Yes. Everything in place.”

McCree relaxed a fraction at his words, but continued to pace. Hanzo knelt and opened the footlocker, the lock keyed to their thumbprints. When building the basement bunker, the lock had initially been coded to Hanzo’s thumbprint alone, but Jesse had been worried about being able to open the lock if Hanzo was hurt, or if his hands had been injured, so they had expanded the lock’s digital readout to include Jesse’s right thumb. Human thumb. Something the Wolf would be unable to open. 

Personally, Hanzo was doubtful the Wolf was aware enough to know the basement key was put in the footlocker every night. Or even what a basement key was used for. The Wolf had always been one for brute strength, trying to break through the door regardless of locks, but Hanzo and McCree both agreed a dose of extra paranoia didn’t hurt. He placed the key in the locker and looked back at McCree.

“Do you need help with your arm?”

“What?” Jesse snapped his head toward Hanzo. “Oh. Oh. Yeah. I mean, no. Hang on.”

He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and pulled it off, balling it up and tossing it aside. Hanzo caught it smoothly, then neatly folded it and put it in the footlocker. With a hiss of electronics and a groan of steel, McCree detached his prosthetic arm and set it down on top of his shirt. He hesitated, then tossed his hat in afterward and went back to pacing.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said with the patience of a saint. “Do you like those jeans?”

“Huh?” Jesse was getting more twitch, his movements sharp as he stalked back and forth across the small room. “What? Oh. _Oh._ Yeah. I do, actually. Dammit. Uh. Hell. Shoulda waited before taking the arm off, huh? Dammit.”

“Jesse, darling…” Hanzo moved smoothly forward and wrapped McCree into a warm hug, stroking his back. “It’s alright. You’re alright. We’ve done this before, over and over. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“But what if…” McCree’s voice cracked. “What if this is the night I finally hurt you? What if I-”

“Shh…” Hanzo silenced him with a kiss, holding him close for a long moment before parting their lips with a sigh. “Don’t worry, Jesse. We’ve discussed this. You cannot hurt me.”

“Just ‘cause I can’t infect you don’t mean I can’t hurt you,” he argued. “It don’t matter if my bite ain’t gonna turn you into a Wolf, it still _hurts._ If I…What if the Wolf-”

“The Wolf cannot stand against a Dragon,” Hanzo said confidently. “Which is why we do this every month. Now finish getting undressed before you Shift and ruin your clothing.”

He politely looked away to preserve McCree’s dignity as the man awkwardly stripped with one arm. McCree managed to disrobe with minimal fumbling, then crawled onto the mattress and wrapped himself tightly in a red and gold quilt. Hanzo folded the rest of McCree’s clothing before stripping down himself, closed and locked the footlocker with their clothing, prosthetic, and the basement key inside, then went to kneel beside the shivering bundle under the blanket. 

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked, soothingly stroking McCree’s back through the quilt.

“It’s coming, Han. I can feel it. Coming fast.”

“It’s alright, Jesse. I’ve got you.” He continued to stroke and soothe McCree as the minutes ticked by, offering words of comfort and the occasional gentle kiss.

Hanzo was able to tell the exact moment the moon rose. All at once, McCree stopped trembling and went deathly still. A moment passed in absolute silence, then two, then Jesse took a heaving breath and a convulsion ran through his body, rolling from his head down to his toes. A second convulsion followed, then a third, until McCree’s form was twitching and writhing under the quilt. 

A mournful wail ripped itself from Jesse’s throat, followed by a sob. Hanzo continued to kneel beside him and rub his back, murmuring words of comfort. Jesse’s hand reached up to tangle in his own hair, whimpering as he tried to raise himself up to his knees.

“It’s alright, love. I’m here, Jesse. You’re going to be okay.”

Hanzo felt bones shift under his hand with a sickening grinding sound and McCree screamed. Coarse, thick brown hair began to sprout across his skin and his shoulders stretched, growing impossibly broad as muscle grew and thickened. Another scream tore from McCree as his skull cracked and shifted, elongating into the Wolf’s muzzle, ears growing and sliding upward to the top of his head, forming into triangular points. Thick claws sprouted from his nailbeds, sharpening. McCree’s whimpers deepened in pitch, then began to sound more like growls between his panting breaths. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, but still brown. 

Hanzo gently stroked McCree’s back once more then took a step back. Any moment now, brown would shift to gold, and the man Hanzo loved would be gone, locked away behind the control of the Wolf. He would need to be ready. 

The final stage of the transformation happened all at once, as it always did, the Wolf giving a final shudder as he was finally freed, his eyes always the last to change, gleaming gold in the darkened room. A low growl was all the warning Hanzo had before the Wolf attacked, but that was more than enough.

Unlike Jesse, Hanzo’s transformations were not painful and were much faster, the benefit of having become a lycanthrope willingly, binding his soul to his ancestor’s ancient spirits instead of being Bitten on a lonely road in New Mexico. It only took a thought for blue scales to spread down his arms and stretch into long claws, knocking the Wolf aside before the bite could connect. A thought later and his body had stretched, shifting into a blue dragon with silver mane, large enough to catch and pin a Wolf.

The Wolf snarled and laid his ears back. Despite his missing front limb, he was still impossibly fast and agile, and in the time it took Hanzo to blink, the Wolf had launched himself forward, lunging for Hanzo’s throat. 

For all the Wolf’s speed, however, the Dragon was faster. 

Hanzo twisted out of the way and bit down on the back of the Wolf’s neck, serpentine body coiling around the Wolf like a snake around his prey.

The Wolf howled in fury, thrashing in Hanzo’s grip, clawing at his coils and jaws snapping at the air as Hanzo held him in place. He wanted to be free! The Wolf wanted to run and hunt and kill, not lay trapped beneath ground, where he couldn’t even scent fresh air or howl at the full moon!

Hanzo growled low and deep, and there was a Power behind it, something that made the Wolf shudder, informing him that no matter how mighty he thought he was, a Dragon was so much more than just a beast. The Dragon commanded the Wolf to calm, and the Wolf grudgingly obeyed. Slowly, Hanzo uncoiled, still watching the Wolf cautiously. There had been more than one night where he had thought the Wolf had given up the fight, only to find jaws clamped around him the moment he looked away. There had been some nights where they had fought all night long, leaving Hanzo battered and exhausted with the sunrise.

_Sleep,_ Hanzo commanded.

The Wolf resisted, ears flattening and baring his teeth with a growl. The night had only just begun! He would not waste it with sleep!

Hanzo tilted his head, considering. The Wolf seemed less mindlessly aggressive than previous months. Perhaps he could be reasoned with this time.

_Stay,_ Hanzo amended.

_Why?_ the Wolf demanded.

_For me._

The Wolf considered, tail slowly swishing. Hanzo held his breath, hoping that this would finally work. The Wolf and Jesse didn’t share the same mind, but they were still the same being, the same soul. Two facets of one person, each trying to reject the other. Hanzo was convinced that eventually, the more they worked at it, parts of Jesse would start leaking into the Wolf. Maybe even have control over himself during his transformations.

_For you?_ The Wolf asked.

Hanzo decided to chance it and closed his eyes, leaning forward to nuzzle him gently.

_Please._

The Wolf hesitated, then finally relaxed, tail swishing slowly. He huffed once, fussed with the blankets a little, then curled up on the mattress. Gold eyes glared at Hanzo, betraying his resentment, but the Dragon didn’t care.

It was a start, Hanzo thought, and a huge step forward. He languidly coiled around the Wolf, and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

 

Morning found them curled against each other in their nest of blankets, both human once again. Hanzo awoke to the sound of McCree groaning, stretching against him.

“Nnn…how in the hell did I end up as the little spoon?”

Hanzo smiled against the back of his neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’ve caught me. That’s my secret. I cuddle you until you go to sleep. Every month.”

McCree laughed softly, but it died quickly in his throat. “…Hanzo…did I…”

“No. I am fine. You did not hurt me,” He felt Jesse relax in his arms and held him tighter. “You did so well. I was able to convince you to stay with me. No fighting. No bloodshed. No escape attempts.”

“R-really? I mean…you didn’t…really?” McCree twisted around to look at Hanzo with shock.

Hanzo smiled. “Really.”

Jesse’s smile stretched to his ears.

“We’re making progress,” Hanzo said. “We’ll get there.”

“Yeah…” McCree sighed and sank back into Hanzo’s embrace. “Suppose we should get up.”

“Eventually,” Hanzo said idly, planting a soft kiss on McCree’s shoulder. “But for now, this is nice.”

Warm brown eyes met his own.

“Yes, it is.”


	5. Pets/Animals

“So, uh. You didn’t put anything in this eggnog, did ya?” 

Hanzo glanced up from his tablet, peering over his reading glasses at McCree. “Hm?”

McCree looked down suspiciously at the glass of eggnog in his hand. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating.” He peered back up at the hallucinations in question, two blue translucent creatures that looked uncannily similar to Hanzo’s dragons, only significantly smaller. The hallucinations were currently sniffing under the Christmas tree set up in the main recreation room, and as McCree watched, one reared up on its hind legs to bat at a dangling piece of tinsel.

“Oh,” Hanzo said disinterestedly, looking back at his tablet. “That happens, on occasion.”

McCree sputtered. “This happens? Just…just goddamn tiny-ass dragons crawl out of who-knows-where and just…just…”

One small dragon climbed atop a red-wrapped present and sniffed at a star-shaped plastic ornament. It made a small ‘chirrup’ and the second dragon bounded over to see what the fuss was about, the two of them both sniffing at the ornament together.

“…just do weird shit?”

“Yep,” Hanzo scrolled down on his tablet. “They only take this form when they feel safe, around people they trust.”

“Well…gosh. Should I be flattered?”

“Yes.”

“Then thank y’kindly,” He tipped his hat to the little dragons. One turned back and chirped in acknowledgement, then reached up to bat at the star ornament.

“And these are the same dragons, then?”

“Hm?”

“These two. They’re the same dragons I’ve seen on the battlefield and during missions.”

Hanzo glanced over briefly, then returned to his tablet. “Oh, yes. Definitely. But there isn’t any danger to be concerned about, so they’re relaxed.”

The first dragon managed to swat the ornament off the tree, and the second darted down to snatch it, then began to scamper across the room with the little star in its mouth. The first dragon squawked in protest and gave chase.

“These are the same two dragons who I’ve watched kill a dozen Talon agents who were dumb enough to line up in a narrow alleyway.”

“Yes,” Hanzo looked over long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “Which is why it’s generally wise to let them have what they want.”

“Like what?”

Hanzo nodded toward one dragon that had climbed to the back of the couch and had just started pawing at Jesse’s serape. Jesse gave a start of surprise.

“Hey, now. You don’t get to carry this away. It’s my favorite.”

The dragon made a keen of distress, latching both front claws into it and tugging.

“Hanzo? A little help?”

Hanzo didn’t even bother to look up. “Nope. You got yourself into this.”

“How in the hell is this my fault?”

The dragon made a hiss and bit the serape.

“Hey!” McCree scolded, waggling a finger at the little dragon. “You listen here. This is mine, and I ain’t too keen on parting with it. Now, that being said, I was planning on watching a movie here, so if you want to share with me, I’d find that more agreeable.”

He gave the dragon a stern look and the spirit actually seemed taken aback. It gave an inquisitive chirp, then tentatively crept forward, pawing at the serape a bit, then curled up in the fabric, making itself comfortable. There was a chirrup by McCree’s other ear, and the second spirit joined in, still holding the little star ornament in its mouth. Jesse felt eyes on him and glanced over to see Hanzo watching the scene, both eyebrows arched.

“Well,” the archer said, setting his tablet down. “It seems you’ve made friends.”

“I hope so,” Jesse glanced down at the two dragons, curled up on each of his shoulders. “I’d hate for them to hold a grudge. What do you think, sugar? Think I could get one more dragon to squeeze in here?”

Hanzo snorted, but moved to sit by his side anyway. Jesse was careful not to disturb the dragons as he wrapped one arm around him.

That was how Genji found them, two hours later, all four sound asleep as the end credits rolled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo not giving a shit is my aesthetic.


	6. Winter Sports

“This is a godawful terrible idea, and I hate whoever came up with it.”

McCree clung to the wall at the side of the ice rink, legs locked and standing stiffly in his skates. 

“That’d be Winston, luv!” Tracer smiled pityingly as she skated smoothly past him. “And you’d hurt his feelings if he heard it!”

“Besides,” Genji chimed in, skating backwards beside her. _Backwards._ “It’s a team building exercise. Don’t you want to be a good team member, Jesse?”

“No!” McCree barked stubbornly, but the pair had already skated away. He took a few deep breaths and straightened up, trying to balance on his ice skates, and very slowly let go of the wall. He wobbled dangerously and latched back on.

“Jesse,” Hanzo skated toward him and smoothly slowed to a halt. He didn’t even need to run into the wall to stop. Show off. “Have you never done this before?”

“Not a lot of ice in New Mexico,” McCree said dryly.

“Surely there were indoor rinks.”

“You really gonna argue this point with me, honeybunch?”

“Of course not,” Hanzo agreed smoothly. “So you’ve never been ice skating. Let me help you.”

“It’s too late for me, darlin’. Save yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jesse. Come on. Get away from the wall.”

“It’s the only thing keeping me upright!”

“It’s alright. I have you,” With a little more urging, Hanzo managed to coax McCree off of the wall and leaning on himself, pulling the larger man further out into the rink. “Now, stop trying to stand and walk normally. We’re not walking on ice, we’re skating on it. Bend your knees. A little more. Get the weight on the balls of your feet.”

Jesse tried to follow Hanzo’s directions, complaining all the while. “I don’t understand what moron looked at the worst, slipperiest substance on God’s Green Earth and decided ‘I’m gonna go strap knives to my feet and go break my neck on that.’”

“Someone with more of a sense of adventure than you.”

“More like someone with more of a sense of balance.”

“That, too. Alright. Stomach in, chest forward, push off with one foot and glide. No, no… Stop trying to walk normally. Push and glide.” Hanzo released McCree briefly to demonstrate, then skated easily back to him to help support him. “Ready? Left foot first. Push and glide. Push and glide.”

Arm in arm, McCree took a few tentative steps with Hanzo’s support. All seemed to be going well until they started to pick up a little momentum.

“W-whoa! Hold up, we’re going too fast!”

“We’re fine, Jesse. A little speed will-” Hanzo felt McCree at his side pitch forward, then overcorrect by leaning backwards and lose his balance. Hanzo tried to catch him, and the two went sprawling to the ice in a tangle of limbs and skates.

“Sugar! Pumpkin! Are you hurt?” McCree tried to scramble off Hanzo and only slipped a second time.

Hanzo sat up, frowning as he picked up Jesse’s hat from where it fell.

“Jesse, I have come to a conclusion.”

“What’s that, sweetness?”

“Perhaps ice skating isn’t for you.”

“Thank God.”


	7. Alcohol

They’d both had more than a little too much to drink, though neither would admit it. They leaned against each other as they stumbled down the nighttime streets back to their hotel, Lena having relieved Jesse of his keys and driven herself back when the pair had refused to call it a night two hours ago. Hanzo knew their heads and livers would hate them in the morning, but right now, arm wrapped around his boyfriend as they laughed and talked nonsense with each other, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

They didn’t see the orange barrier until they had almost stumbled into it. The pair pulled up short and only McCree’s arm kept Hanzo from falling forward.

“Huh,” Jesse said eloquently. “Sidewalk’s closed.”

“How inconvenient,” Hanzo looked around, peering through the dark to see if there was an easy way around.

“Hold up, I think I see a shortcut,” McCree lurched to the left, heading for an alleyway that seemed to loop around a series of commercial buildings.

Hanzo frowned, but went along with him anyway, boots slipping in the brown slush that used to be snow. “Is this actually a shortcut, or are you just trying to sound like you know what you are doing?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B.”

“How resassur…resa…reasshu…How inspiring.”

“I inspire to be inspiring.”

Hanzo frowned. “I do not think you used that word correctly.”

“Sure I did, sugarplum,” McCree drawled, his words slurring only a little. 

“As I live and breathe, if isn’t Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo frowned and stopped at the sound of the new voice, low and confident. Four shapes stepped forward out of the shadows of the alleyway, and the part of Hanzo that wasn’t absolutely inebriated was horrified that he hadn’t noticed them until now.

McCree frowned at the strangers. “Do I know you?”

“No,” said the most forward of the group. “But we know you. And the fifty-five million dollar bounty on your head.”

“Sixty million, excuse you,” McCree retorted, sounding honestly insulted. “I didn’t not-rob a train for nothin’.”

“Jesse…” Hanzo tightened his grip on the back of McCree’s coat.

“And ignorin’ my date, too. That’s just damn insulting.”

“Jesse, stop…”

“The lost heir to the Shimada Empire, and you punks are all worked up over a measly sixty mill,” His voice was growing louder and his syllables slurring together the more worked up he got.

“Two birds with one stone, then,” the biggest punk said, slapping a crowbar into his fat fists. “More for us. Get ‘em!”

The thugs surged toward the drunk duo, and Hanzo lurched away from McCree, stumbling against the alley wall. The four thugs split, two for each of them, armed with crowbars and knives.

The fight was over almost before it began. Despite his intoxication, Hanzo’s decades of martial arts training weren’t for nothing and muscle memory took over where his drunken mind could not. His two thugs were on the ground within seconds, dazed and groaning, one with a broken nose. Hanzo wasn’t even quite sure what he had done, only that he had done it quickly. A glance showed that McCree’s thugs fared even worse.

Without self-restraint, McCree hadn’t pulled his punches, and his prosthetic arm was a force not to be underestimated. One thug was sprawled against a dumpster, dazed and bleeding from his nose. The other was halfway across the alley, unconscious.

“Two to one? That wasn’t fair at all. For them, I mean,” Jesse grinned at Hanzo. “You okay, Han?”

“Fine, of course,” he replied stiffly. “And yourself?”

“Didn’t even land a hit on me.”

“Likewise.”

“Coulda taken all four myself, o’course.”

“ _Likewise._ ”

McCree laughed and lumbered back toward Hanzo, unable to even walk straight. “Alright, darlin’. I hear ya. Let’s just get back to the hotel. I need some serious shut eye.”

“That would be an understatement,” Hanzo stumbled and the two found themselves clinging to each other again, stepping over the thugs as they staggered back to the hotel, laughing, joking, and bickering the rest of the way.


	8. Lights

“Would you care to explain to me why we are doing this?” Hanzo held the coiled string of white Christmas lights while McCree carefully circled the gigantic fir tree, placing the lights with great care.

“Why are we doing this?” McCree looked aghast. “Hanzo, I’m surprised at you. What kind of Christmas would it be without a proper Christmas tree?”

“No, I meant why are _we_ doing this?” he clarified.

“Oh,” McCree looked back at the tree. “Because I volunteered and then dragged you along with me. And because no one else does it right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

McCree stopped to let out a sigh of long suffering, and Hanzo got the impression that McCree had given this explanation more than once. 

“Back in the old Overwatch, everyone had given decorating the big main rec-room tree a try, and it’d always been terrible,” he started, going back to stringing the lights as he spoke. “Torb had this awful gold an’ orange color scheme going which was just…trust me. It was awful. Rein covered it with popcorn and candy, and everyone would pick snacks off the tree until it was bare as a newgrown spruce by Christmas morning. Jack and Gabriel tried to do it one year, but I guess they had different opinions on what makes a good Christmas tree and the whole thing turned into a game of sabotaging each other instead of actually decorating the damn tree. Ana always let Fareeha help decorate, so it was usually a nice silver and gold affair with weird-ass ornaments strung all over the goddamn place, depending on what the kid was feeling like that year. Winston’s was…not bad, I’ll give him that. Tasteful. But he liked everything all blue and silver and there were these little silver tinsel bits that got everywhere and we were finding ‘em in everything for a solid year. Lena’s was…God. It was horrible. Like Ol’ Saint Nick hisself had come down to puke rainbows onto a perfectly good pine tree. You’d never seen an uglier thing, let me tell you.”

“And what do you like?” Hanzo asked, still following Jesse with the roll of lights.

“I like it a little more simple. Just round ornaments, no damn pickle in a tree or weird shapes or funny jokes. And it seems to me that there’s pretty clear Christmas colors, right?  
Red, green, and white. So green tree, white lights, red ornaments, and a star on top. A white star, to match the lights.”

“Hm,” Hanzo said noncommittally. “Seems that some people might find that too plain.” 

“And that’s the pushback I’ve gotten on my tree before,” he huffed. “Look, I get that people have different tastes and different opinions on how to decorate a damn tree, but they’ve got other places, too. Lena can make an ugly-ass rainbow tree in her apartment with Em, Torb can decorate his orange tree with his twenty-some-odd kids and grandkids, but me…” he stopped with a quaver in his voice and didn’t meet Hanzo’s eye. “…I ain’t got anywhere else to go. So…I want this. This is my tree. And I’ve had too damn many years where I didn’t get to have a tree. Or…or any of this.”

“Jesse…” Hanzo’s eyes softened and he reached to take McCree’s hand. “I understand.”

McCree turned back to meet his gaze with a surprised look that melted into a warm smile. “I know you do, pumpkin. More than most. …Aw, dammit. You’re in the same boat I’m in. I’m sorry, darlin’. Weren’t thinking about you, just about myself. Not very in the season of things, huh? And I ain’t even asked how you like to decorate your tree.”

“It’s fine, Jesse,” He rubbed the back of McCree’s hand reassuringly. “Christmas wasn’t typically a big deal for my family growing up. I certainly never decorated a tree.”  
McCree made a distressed face and looked like was going to interrupt, so Hanzo continued quickly.

“We did have one winter tradition, however. We would always share a Christmas Cake.”

This was enough to successfully distract McCree from the injustice of having never decorated a tree. “A cake?”

“A specific cake. Traditionally it is a sponge cake iced with whipped cream and topped with strawberries. It is meant to be shared with friends and loved ones. …I have not had anyone to share one with in quite some time.”

“Think we could find one down in the town?” Jesse immediately asked, as Hanzo knew he would.

“If not, I am sure we could find the ingredients to make one.”

Jesse grinned. “My tree and your cake. Sound like a plan?”

“I look forward to it. But first we must finish your tree.”

Grinning wide, McCree took the hint and continued wrapping the fir tree in Christmas lights, humming carols the entire time.


	9. First Date

“So, you wanna grab some coffee after this?”

It was incredibly inappropriate, giving the circumstances, but the words just slipped out. The two of them were tangled in a sprawl after jumping off a roof to avoid a grenade. Hanzo had blood running down his face from an injury above his hairline and McCree had been shot in the shoulder, for hell’s sake. And yet, Jesse had been unable to stop the words from spilling out. 

The sound of gunfire spurred him to lurch to his feet and pull Hanzo up with him. He fired at the figures still on the rooftop, expecting Hanzo to return his focus on the mission and let Jesse’s poorly timed question slide. He certainly didn’t expect an answer.

“I’d like that.”

And definitely not an answer to the affirmative.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night, after Dr. Zeigler lets us out of the infirmary.”

The fight had continued amid idle discussion as to where they wanted to go, and as Hanzo put an arrow through the eye of an enemy sniper, they decided the best plan would be to just walk around until they found somewhere they both thought looked good.

Talking about it during the heat of battle was one thing, a promise of something better to give them the motivation to get out of that hellhole alive.  
Actually doing it was another thing entirely.

McCree was nervous. Hand sweating, standing in the mirror, changing clothes three times nervous. Had Hanzo only agreed because of the fight? Would he scowl and turn McCree away? Would he uncomfortably just go along with it to be polite? Did he have any idea how long Jesse had wanted to take him out like this? Goddammit. Wasn’t this shit supposed to get easier the older you got?

Jesse finally settled on jeans, a red flannel shirt, and a leather and fleece jacket. He didn’t need to debate about his hat, belt, and boots; those were always coming. Taking a deep breath, he gathered up his courage and marched to Hanzo’s quarters to knock on the door. A few long moments passed in awkward silence before the door slid open, revealing Hanzo in a well-fitted blue dress shirt and black slacks, a tan cotton jacket over one arm.

Jesse’s heart and stomach fluttered about distractingly in his abdomen and he gave Hanzo a warm smile.

“Looking good, darlin’. Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Hanzo replied, shrugging into the jacket. Did he sound a little breathless? “How are you feeling? How is your shoulder?”

“Still sore, but nothing more than that. Bless Angela and her miracle medicine. And how about yourself?”

“I’m doing quite well, fully healed,” Hanzo said, following Jesse out. He gave a small chuckle. “You know, when most people ask ‘how are you?’ they are referring to just general pleasantries, and not ‘are your gunshot wounds healing.’”

“Really?” McCree gave him a look of mock surprise as he led the way out. “Sounds boring. This makes much more sense.”

“Agreed.”

A light snow had started to fall, but the evening wasn’t too terribly cold, even for McCree’s tastes. They walked through the evening streets, keeping one eye out for coffee shops, and though they both started out a little quiet and awkward, they soon settled into comfortable conversation. 

They eventually found a place that was still open, though they were in the process of closing up, so they got a pair of decafs to go, loaded with cream and sugar apiece. Without thinking, Jesse held his arm out for Hanzo to take, and felt his heart leap into his throat as he did so.

What if Hanzo didn’t take it? What if Hanzo thought this was just coffee and not anything more? He had never actually explicitly stated that this was a date. Was this a date? Oh God, had he just ruined everything with one gesture?

It took less than a second for the thoughts to run through his head, but it was only a heartbeat later when Hanzo alleviated his fears by comfortably taking his arm, drawing closer to him. Jesse gave him a breathless smile, coffee in his free hand, and began a slow, casual walk back to base. Their conversation slowed as they made their way back to Watchpoint property.

“This was nice, sugar. I liked this. A lot.” Jesse smiled down at him.

“As did I. This…was a good idea.” Hanzo slid closer and comfortably rested his head on Jesse’s shoulder. 

Jesse kept walking with him, but fell silent for a long moment as he tried to get his pulse back under control, praying that Hanzo couldn’t hear his racing heart. Hell, he was perfect. Hanzo was absolute perfection. The only thing Jesse regretted was that he couldn’t keep hold of Hanzo’s arm and wrap an arm around his back at the same time. 

He gave a little sigh as they stepped back inside, getting out of the cold. Jesse took his time leading Hanzo back to his quarters, but it still felt far too soon when they finally stood outside the door. 

“Well, here we are, darlin’. Seems like this is where I drop you off.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo slowly let him go and Jesse missed his touch already.

“This was nice,” McCree continued. “Real nice.”

“Indeed, it was.” Hanzo stood by the door, but made no move to go inside.

“Just real…you know? What do you think? Maybe we can…I mean, if you were thinking about it, we might-”

Hanzo chuckled and mercifully cut him off. “For being a smooth-talking cowboy, you are terrible at asking for what you want, Jesse. Yes, I enjoyed this. I enjoyed being with you. And yes, I expect a second date.” Without giving McCree a chance to reply, Hanzo smoothly slid forward and kissed him on the cheek. 

“See you at training tomorrow, Jesse.”

McCree felt dizzy and light headed, but knew that he was grinning ear to ear.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

With one last smile, Hanzo slipped inside and closed the door. Jesse grinned all the way back to his room.


	10. Sick at Home

It all started with a cough. Just a tickle in the back of Jesse’s throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he tried to clear his throat. He laughed and promised it was nothing when Hanzo offered him a cup of tea to help. By the next day, it had spread into a full blown cold, leaving McCree bedridden. Hanzo had passive-aggressively made sure Jesse took the tea he had declined the previous night, and proceeded to cook him meals, stock up on cold medication, and patiently listen to McCree whine about how he was surely dying and this wasn’t how he wanted to go and would Hanzo please put white lilies on his grave to remember him.

That night, Hanzo began to cough. Despite all the tea and pre-emptive cold medicine he could safely take, by following morning Hanzo found himself sharing all of Jesse’s symptoms.

“This,” Hanzo said, slipping on a robe and crawling out of bed. “is all your fault.”

“My fault?” Jesse rasped, his throat raw. “How is this my fault?”

“If you had taken better care of yourself, you would not have gotten sick. If you were not sick, you would not have made me sick. Ergo, your fault.” He huffed and shuffled for the door.

“Where’re you going?” McCree asked, sitting up in the bed.

“The guest bedroom. We are both diseased. If we keep sharing bacteria, we will just pass this back and forth and never be healthy again.”

“Aw, honey…”

“I am quarantining myself until we are both well again,” he left the room and McCree could hear his slippered feet shuffle all the way down the hall.

Jesse huffed at the closed door. Well, that just wouldn’t do. Hanzo had spent a whole day taking care of him, and McCree would be damned if he didn’t return the favor. He had to admit that Hanzo had a point, though. It wouldn’t help anyone if they just passed this back and forth, and Hanzo would be very irritated if Jesse just ignored his self-imposed quarantine. He’d have to be indirect about it.

With a groan, Jesse pulled himself up out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants before wandering over to the kitchen, pushing past the foggy feeling in his head. He washed his hands, put on some disposable cleaning gloves and wrapped a handkerchief around his mouth to act as a makeshift mask. Feeling as possibly non-contaminating as he reasonably could, he made two cups of herbal tea, adding liberal amounts of honey the way Hanzo liked it. Jesse poured himself a dose of liquid cold medicine, downing it like a shot, then brought the cup of tea and the bottle of cold meds to the guest room door. He gave three sharp, loud knocks, then retreated to the master bedroom with his own cup of tea. He faintly heard the guest room door open and close by the time he was back in his own bed, and had only made it halfway through his tea before the cold medication pulled him down into sleep.

Jesse awoke to a series of sharp raps on the door. He groaned and rolled over, enduring a coughing fit before staring blankly at nothing as his mind tried to focus somewhere between Sleep Fog and Sick Fog in his head. The clock showed that it was midday, which at least meant that he’d gotten a whole morning’s worth of uninterrupted sleep. With a groan, Jesse forced himself out of bed and opened the door. Sitting innocently on the floor was a bowl of steaming soup, more cold meds, and a sizable pile of cough drops.  
It took more effort than Jesse wanted to admit to bend down and retrieve his newfound gifts without spilling anything, but it didn’t stop the smile on his face as he enjoyed his soup. 

“Thank you, sugar,” he croaked in the direction of the guest room, but heard nothing in reply. 

Thus began an odd game of cat and mouse, each trying to care for the other without actually interacting with each other. Were they not both feeling like their skin was going to crawl off, Jesse was sure their “gifts” to each other would have only grown more and more elaborate as they tried to outdo one another, but as things stood, they were just managing to keep each other fed, hydrated, and medicated. At one point, Hanzo managed to do both of their laundry. McCree countered by getting the dishes done, but they couldn’t seem to manage to escalate things further.

The quarantine only lasted a solid two days, and was broken by Hanzo returning to the master bedroom, wrapped in a blanket. McCree sat up and set down the tablet he was staring at in lieu of reading. 

“Darlin’?”

“How are you feeling?” Hanzo asked.

“Better, but nowhere near 100%. Throat’s still sore, but at least my head has cleared and I’m not achy anymore. …How are you?”

“Similar. And I’ve stopped feeling hot, but my sinuses have become congested and I can’t stop-” he broke into a coughing fit.

McCree was halfway out of the bed before Hanzo waved him off and he hesitated, not sure what to do. “…Sugar? What do you need? How can I help?”

Hanzo sighed. “Despite our best efforts at quarantining each other, I have found a terrible flaw with our system.”

“That being?”

Hanzo slid forward and crawled into the bed, pulling Jesse down with him.

“I miss you.” He sighed and buried his face into McCree’s chest. “I’d rather be sick together than healthy apart.”

“Aw, Hanzo…” Jesse smiled and wrapped his arms around him. “That’s awful sweet. I was missing you something fierce, too.”

He kissed his forehead and Hanzo made a face.

“We should at least try a little to not share germs.”

“Whatever you say, pumpkin,” Jesse said, kissing him again.

Hanzo sighed, but smiled anyway. Through sickness and health, there was no place either of them would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Content: Genji standing at the foot of their bed and staring at them as the snuggle and cough. He broke in because neither of them were answering their phones or the front door. He then proceeds to haul both their asses down to a real doctor so they can get some prescription meds on board because over the counter isn't cutting it.


	11. Sleeping In

_Beep Beep Beep Beep_

Hanzo’s alarm went off at five in the morning, as it did every morning, but it was Jesse who reached over and shut the phone alarm off. Hanzo turned to blink at him with confusion, eyes still cloudy with sleep.

“Jesse?”

“Not today, Hanzo,” he shoved the phone out of arm’s reach and pulled Hanzo back against him, getting comfortable against Hanzo’s back. 

“…Jesse…” Hanzo tried to pull away, but McCree’s arms tightened across his bare chest.

“No.”

“Jesse, love. Be reasonable.”

His voice was low and husky with sleep, but McCree’s words were sharp and clear. “ _No._ We went through hell and back yesterday, and we’ve got leave to do fuck all until we’re recovered. That means we ain’t gotta do anything today, and that means no early morning training.”

Were it any other day, Hanzo would have at least put up a margin of a fight, but he truly, deeply still felt exhausted. Even though neither of them had been injured the day before, it had been a very harrowing mission, and it was more than once that the pair was sure they wouldn’t be making it back to the evacuation point alive. They had been tense and quiet the entire flight back to base and during the debriefing, and only after falling into bed tangled together were they able to finally convince themselves that they were truly still alive.

“Please, Han.” Jesse’s voice was soft and pleading, and a sterner man than Hanzo would have melted under it.

“Alright.” Hanzo rolled over to face McCree, and reached up to run a hand along his cheek through his beard. His voice was gentle as he continued, meeting Jesse’s warm, brown eyes. “Alright. You win this round, cowboy.”

McCree visibly relaxed, sinking back into the pillows and gently stroking Hanzo’s thick shoulders. “…Thank you.” 

They lay together in silence for a long while, enjoying soft, idle caresses and gentle kisses, listening to their own breathing, savoring each other’s heartbeat, cherishing each moment they were still alive. As predawn faded and the sun crowned the horizon, they settled into a comfortable embrace.

“Besides,” Hanzo broke the silence as just as Jesse started to drift back into sleep, jarring him awake. “We shouldn’t inflict ourselves on the rest of the team yet. You still have the look of a man who has been thoroughly fucked all night.”

It was enough to startle McCree into a short laugh, and he grabbed a pillow to swat Hanzo with it. Hanzo took the blow without complaint and gave him a wholly unrepentant smirk.

“You are merciless, you know that?”

“It didn’t seem to bother you last night,” Hanzo scoffed. It earned him another swat with the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, bowman,” McCree was smiling despite his words. He gave Hanzo one last hit with the pillow and then dropped it in favor of gathering Hanzo into his arms.

“You make it too easy,” Hanzo leaned up to kiss him apologetically. “I can’t resist.”

“I am pretty irresistible, it’s true.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” Hanzo kissed him a little harder, letting his lips linger before pulling away to rest his head in the crook of Jesse’s shoulder. “But you are correct, nonetheless.” 

McCree stroked lazily along Hanzo’s back. “For the record, I find you pretty irresistible, too.”

“Well, obviously,” Hanzo replied in his best arrogant voice, though his eyes were drifting closed and he didn’t move from his comfortable position against Jesse’s chest. “I am…what did Hana say? ‘A hot piece of ass.’”

“That is a damn truth,” McCree agreed, and gave said ass in question a squeeze before resting head against Hanzo’s and closed his eyes.

Hanzo gave a wordless hum of agreement before falling silent, happy to lay in blissful peace in Jesse’s embrace. The sun rose and the Watchpoint awoke around them, but the exhausted sharpshooters were content to let the morning pass them by.


	12. Family

“I love weddings! The beautiful joining of two families…Nothing brings people more together. Will you be needing corsages for the families of the grooms? How many will be attending?”

It was such an innocent question. The woman at the flower shop clearly didn’t know what she had done, so Hanzo made an excuse about needing to take a count and left the shop with the sample flowers she had provided. He didn’t make eye contact as he left.

How many members of their families would be attending their wedding? One. One mutilated little brother was all the family Hanzo had left, and Jesse didn’t even have that much. He knew it shouldn’t bother him; families came in all shapes and sizes and adhering to a so-called traditional nuclear family obviously wasn’t common or practical anymore. The thought still rang around in his head no matter what logic told him, and it was still bothering him when he returned to the café where he would be meeting his fiancé for lunch.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” McCree grinned and greeted Hanzo with a kiss before taking his seat. “How was the flower shop?”

“I picked up a few samples. How was the tailor?”

“Perfect. The suits look absolutely stunning. Just need to haul you in for another fitting and they’ll be all set.”

“Good,” Being with McCree helped ease his nerves, but the nagging concern still clung to him, and it didn’t take Jesse long to notice.

“What’s up, honeybee? No white roses?”

Hanzo snorted and waved a hand. “Of course they have white roses.”

“Then you’re going to have to help me out here, sugar, ‘Cause I don’t have half a clue as to what seems to be bothering ya.” He took Hanzo’s hand and rubbed calming circles into his palm.

“…Does it bother you that we don’t have any family to invite? Barring the obvious exception of one cyborg ninja.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows. “What brought this on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hanzo…”

“It is foolish,” Hanzo corrected. “Just a thoughtless comment the florist said. About how many corsages we would need for our family members. I suppose it lingered with me a little longer than necessary. Forgive me.”

“Well, I hope you told her we wouldn’t be getting family corsages!”

Hanzo gave a bitter smile and looked down at his drink.

“That’s a damn upsell and waste of money. We’ll go flat broke if we got the whole family special flowers!”

Hanzo looked up sharply and met his eyes. “…Jesse? I…I’m sorry, I don’t…what?”

Jesse released Hanzo’s hand to start ticking off names on his fingers. “Well, there’s Genji, that’s obvious. Then our patronizing but loving aunt Angela. After that, my irritating kid sisters Lena and Fareeha. Emily counts because she’s with Lena, so she’s extended family. Sister-in-law? Somethin’ like that. Then we got our too-nosy-and-smart-for-their-own-good cousins Mei and Winston. The weird uncles Reinhardt and Torbjorn, along with Torb’s wife and his massive posse of offspring. That makes all of them nieces and nephews.” Jesse ran out of fingers to count on and stopped trying. 

“Cousins,” Hanzo corrected, stunned at himself that he was going along with this. “If Torbjorn is our uncle, that would make his children our cousins and his grandchildren our first cousins once removed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Never could keep that straight,” McCree continued. “Anyway, Cousin Bridgette should get a special mention in that group, being the oldest and closest to us, so there she is. Moving on, we’ve got our spoiled brat kid Hana and her boyfriend Lucio, who I might have seriously considered adopting for real if they weren’t both legally adults. Let’s see, who else do we got? Oh! We got the scary literal vodka aunt Zarya, except she’s just about half our age, so let’s go ahead and reassign her to niece. Last but not least, we’ve got our baby sisters Efi and Orisa. Er…wait. Efi made Orisa, so that makes Orisa our niece, too.”

“What is Bastion?” Hanzo asked.

“Goddamn, I knew I forgot someone. Bastion followed Torbjorn home, so he counts as being adopted by Torb. That makes him a cousin, too.”

“That isn’t how adoption works, Jesse.”

“Sure, it is. And that makes Ganymede our…what was it? First cousin once removed.”

“Ganymede is a bird, Jesse.”

“And your cousin Winston is a gorilla, so don’t be rude.”

That was enough to surprise Hanzo into a laugh and McCree beamed at him.

“See, pumpkin?” he said, gently taking Hanzo’s hand again. “You’re marrying into a hell of a big family.” 

Hanzo entwined his fingers with Jesse’s and asked the question on his mind before he could think better of it. “…And your parents?”

Jesse blinked, then his eyes softened and his smile turned bittersweet. 

“Oh, I had three wonderful parents. Ana, Jack, and Gabriel. They’re long gone, but I know they would have loved you.” He kissed the back of Hanzo’s hand. “Almost as much as I do.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said after a moment. “I suppose I never thought about Overwatch that way.”

“Now you do, sugar,” McCree continued to pepper Hanzo’s hand and wrist with kisses, unwilling to let him go. “And you’ll have us for the rest of your life.”

“Damn. What have I signed myself up for?

Jesse grinned. “That’s how family works. You’re stuck with ‘em, good and bad.”

Worries alleviated, Hanzo leaned forward to kiss him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	13. Camping (1/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I’m, what? Two days behind? But this drabble hit 1k words and we weren’t even close to done. Hell, we hadn’t even gotten to some goddamn camping yet. So I’ve decided to do the prompts a little bit out of order to combine “Camping,” “Stars,” and “Roadtrip” into one fic, so the next three chapters will all be parts of one fic. Camping is part one!

“Whenever I imagined going camping, it was nothing like this.”

“Oh?” McCree asked with an arched eyebrow. “And what were you thinking?”

Hanzo pursed his lips and looked out the passenger window, watching the Arizona landscape pass by. “Trees. Mountains, maybe. Pitched tents with campfires in the middle of the woods. Not…this.”

They’d turned off the highway early afternoon, and had spent the last few hours driving down a road that had probably once been pavement, but was now more dirt than asphalt. The vehicle McCree had insisted on was a truck. An old truck. A truck with actual wheels and tires that touched the ground instead of hover-tech. Getting used to the jostle of the road alone had been a nightmare.

“You sayin’ you don’t appreciate the desert?” McCree asked. “That’s my birthplace you’re getting awfully close to bad mouthing.”

“You were born in Santa Fe. This is Arizona,” Hanzo countered.

“All still the Southwest, sweetheart. This is my home. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to love the desert,” he grinned.

Hanzo snorted. “It will take some work to get me to appreciate anywhere with such heat.”

“What, this? Please, it’s barely in the mid-nineties out there. And the truck has good air conditioning, so I don’t know what you’re fussing about.”

“Nineties? Please tell me that’s Fahrenheit.” 

McCree rolled his eyes at Hanzo’s exaggerated look of horror.

“Of course it’s Fahrenheit, you drama king. Celsius would be…what? Mid-thirties?”

“Still hot enough to be miserable. And we will be outside, away from the air conditioning, so we will have no defense against the desert trying to kill us. Not to mention the bugs and snakes and coyotes and-”

“You know, you didn’t have to come,” McCree snapped. His fingers were tight on the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the road, his mouth pressed tight into a thin line. Hanzo promptly shut up. A muscle was working in McCree’s jaw and he didn’t acknowledge Hanzo’s abrupt silence. 

“I need a smoke,” Jesse’s voice was sharp and he didn’t look over as Hanzo pulled a cigarillo out of the carton in the glove box and handed it to him. McCree fished a lighter out of his pocket and lit up, rolling the window down halfway to filter out the smoke, and didn’t say another word, glaring at the road with his hat tipped low. Hanzo resumed watching the sagebrush and cactus pass them by, occasionally sneaking glances at McCree.

The cigarillo was over half gone when rolling sage-covered hills began to turn to rocky mesas and canyons when Hanzo finally decided to break the tense silence.

“I am sorry,” he said softly. “It was not my intention to upset you.”

“Yeah, well you shoulda thought of that before you started shitting all over the place I call my homeland,” Jesse continued to glower straight ahead, focusing on the road that was starting to wind through growing canyons with red rock walls.

Hanzo didn’t flinch with Jesse’s reply. He’d even half-expected it. He’d been with McCree long enough to know that when Jesse was angry, he liked to stay angry, and it took a little more coaxing to calm him down. 

“I was not trying to insult you or where you grew up.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Jesse…”

“Look,” McCree snapped, speaking around the cigarillo he was bogarting between his teeth. “If you didn’t wanna come, you should’ve just said. I could’ve had Genji or Fareeha come instead. Didn’t realize it would be such a nightmare, taking you out into the wilderness.”

“Jesse, please. I do want to be here. I want to be with you,” he gently reached to touch Jesse’s arm. The cowboy did not pull away. “I am just…uncertain as to what to do. I’ve never done this before, and I suppose it made me uncomfortable. I am out of my element and nervous. I am sorry that I took my feelings out on you.”

Jesse chewed on the end of his cigarillo. 

“This place…it’s special to me,” McCree’s voice had softened and Hanzo allowed himself to relax a margin. “It’s part of my past and a part of who I am. I wanted to share that part o’me with you.”

“Jesse…”

Hanzo slid his hand up Jesse’s arm to rest over his right hand. McCree relaxed his death grip on the steering wheel and let go to entwine his fingers with Hanzo’s.

“I’m sorry, Jesse. Truly. I was being stubborn and obstinate, and it was thoughtless and hurtful.”

“And rude.”

“And rude,” he conceded. “I want to see this part of you, and I am grateful you want to share it with me.”

McCree was silent, the cigarillo burning lower as he clung to the vestiges of his temper, but couldn’t hold it in the light of Hanzo’s gentle words and fingers entwined with his own. He let out a long sigh and relaxed, the tension in his arms and shoulders fading.

“Alright,” he gave Hanzo’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll forgive you. And I know you ain’t one for going out in the middle of nowhere, you city kid. I’m sorry for springing this on you. But, please…would you maybe consider tryin’ to understand why I like it out here?”

“Of course,” Hanzo replied without hesitation and kissed the back of Jesse’s hand.

“Thank you, darlin’,” He let go of Hanzo to grind his cigarillo out in the truck’s ashtray. “And it looks like we’re just about here.”

Hanzo looked out the window to see they had followed the winding road to the flat top of a plateau jutting off the edge of a much taller mesa. Red cliffs stretched high to their backs and the plateau dropped off into nothingness some two hundred yards ahead of them. The dirt trail they had been calling a road for the last mile faded into the sage and McCree continued off-road for another few minutes. The truck ground to a halt beside a rolling rock formation just as the sun was starting to sink low, bathing the landscape in crimson light. 

And what a landscape it was. Flat topped mesas, towering buttes, and jutting plateaus rose proudly through the countryside, the fading light slicing stark black shadows through the red rock formations. Gray-green sagebrush and scraggly juniper spilled along the rolling hills, peppered with the occasional cactus, and as Hanzo looked, he could see there was a pattern to it, the vegetation growing more densely on the north facing slopes than the others. It felt like the whole of the Southwest was sprawled below them and there wasn’t even a hint of a city, only the curling highway in the distance betraying that human kind hadn’t left this corner of the world untouched. It was breathtaking.

The sound of Jesse opening the door was enough to break Hanzo out of his thrall and give him the sense to also get out of the truck, groaning as he finally got to stretch his legs after a day’s worth of driving.

“This is more like it,” Jesse said, giving his own set of stretches, sweeping his hat off to scratch his head before plopping it right back over his shaggy hair. “And we even made it before the sun went down, though the light’s gonna fade faster than you’d think, so we’d best hurry and make camp.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I only…” Hanzo looked back out over the impressive view and found himself mesmerized all over again.

McCree chuckled and dropped his heavy metal hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “That’s alright. Won’t take long. Might even go faster if I just get everything put together all quick by my lonesome. You get acquainted with the view.” He kissed his cheek and let him go, turning away to set up camp.

Hanzo remained behind, getting lost in the world sprawled out before him. Even the heat was not so bad up here, a firm breeze blowing over the top of the plateau. 

Perhaps the desert was not so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind words on the previous chapter! If you ever wanna hit me up, I'm on tumblr at [Dabble Drabble Prose. ](dabbledrabbleprose.tumblr.com)


	14. Stars (2/3)

Despite Jesse’s assurances, Hanzo was genuinely surprised at how quickly McCree set up camp. The sun was still setting behind them when McCree shouted that he was done. Hanzo turned away from the spectacular landscape to look back at their little camp, which now consisted of the truck, two chairs, and a little portable solar stove, all set up in a flat rocky area clear of sagebrush.

“…That’s it?”

“Told you there weren’t much to it.”

“Where’s the tent?”

“No need for a tent. It ain’t gonna rain, and there ain’t much in the way of bugs this time of year.”

“So we are sleeping on the ground?”

“Hell no,” Jesse snorted and started fiddling with the stove, setting a small pot over it and cracking open two cans of what appeared to be some kind of store-bought stew. “Just ‘cause there ain’t bugs don’t mean there ain’t snakes. Also the ground has rocks, and I’ve got a mattress in the back of the truck, along with solar thermal blankets that have been charging the whole drive here.”

The red light of sunset was rapidly fading into purples and blues, and Hanzo headed back toward McCree and away from the plateau edge. “Why no campfire? I thought that was an essential part of camping.”

“Too dry. One poorly-timed spark could set off a grass fire, and I wasn’t planning on ending this evening with setting half of Arizona on fire. The stove’s fine. I’ve got dinner cooking now and we can even make some proper s’mores over it.”

“Ah,” Hanzo took a seat in the folding camping chair. “You have told me of these.”

“Your sweet tooth will love ‘em. Guaranteed.” 

He tended to the pot, stirring slowly, and only stopping to turn on two battery-powered lanterns as the last of the light faded. Dinner was ready quickly, they were only reheating canned stew after all, and Hanzo was smart enough to eat without complaint. The evening darkened into true night, and Jesse got them started on s’mores. 

“It’s better over an actual fire,” Jesse reluctantly admitted. “You get the marshmallow right down by the coals and let it roast slow and even… Some people like to just light theirs on fire and get a hard, crunchy outer layer on it. I think those people are out of their damn minds. The burnt flavor ruins everything.”

“You have put a lot of thought into this,” Hanzo said. McCree was right. Hanzo’s sweet tooth had betrayed him once again and he’d loved the marshmallow and chocolate treat. He wasn’t nearly as fond of the melted marshmallow he was currently trying to pull out of his beard.

“Every kid in the U.S. has an opinion on lightly toasted verses burnt marshmallow. It’s a fact of life. I count myself on Team Lightly Toasted.”

“Hm,” Hanzo frowned, all his attention on trying to get the last of the sticky white sugar out his beard. He was having moderate success between licking his fingers and using thumbnail to scrape through the coarse hair. “I suppose I’ll have to try both to see how I like it.”

“Honey, if you tell me you like crispy burnt marshmallows, I’m afraid I’m going to have to never talk to you again.”

“A shame,” he ran his fingers through his beard a few more times, finally satisfied that he’d gotten it all out. “I will miss hearing your…”

Hanzo’s voice trailed off as he turned his attention away from what he was doing and finally looked upward. 

With the last purple light from the sunset finally gone, the cloudless sky had been unfurled in full glory. The moon was a thin sliver of a crescent, leaving nothing to hide the fathomless multitude of stars that filled the sky, highlighted by the line of the Milky Way, slashing horizon to horizon. 

Hanzo stared in silence for several long minutes before McCree finally interrupted him with a soft laugh. 

“Enjoying the view?”

Hanzo looked quickly over at Jesse and was grateful that the darkness hid his blush.

“Forgive me. I’ve just…I’ve never seen so many stars.”

“I was wondering when you’d notice. That’s why I picked this spot, actually. It’s one of last places in the U.S. unaffected by light pollution.” 

“It’s incredible,” Hanzo turned his attention back to the stars. He heard McCree get up beside him and start cleaning up, not seeming to mind that Hanzo was distracted. “I had no idea there was so much color…I always thought the night sky was just black, but this…”

“Tell me what you see, darlin’,” McCree put everything away in the truck, then moved his chair closer to Hanzo’s and took his hand. “I wanna hear it through your eyes.”

Hanzo made a snort of laughter. “That does not make sense, but I will tell you anyway,” he leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back and the sky take up his entire vision. “The colors…not just black. Purple and blue. But not just navy, there are so many different blues. There’s even green closer to the horizon. And the Milky Way…I’ve never seen it so clearly before. And if you let your eyes relax and unfocus, you can see the movement of all the satellites. I had no idea there were so many.”

A flash of white streaked across the sky and Hanzo gasped.

“Did you see that?”

“Sure did, sweetheart,” Jesse said, but he only had eyes for Hanzo, watching him with the same wonder that Hanzo was giving to the Arizona sky. 

They sat beneath the stars, talking long into the night until a sharp, high yowl split the night. Hanzo sat up stiffly, dropping McCree’s hand to reach for a bow that wasn’t there.

“What was that?”

“Coyotes,” McCree said easily, unconcerned. “Wanna turn in for the night?”

“Hm. That might not be a bad idea,” he replied, looking in the direction the sound had come from with unease. 

“Don’t worry about the coyotes,” Jesse reassured him. “They’ll leave us alone. Most they might do is sniff around the campsite and move on when they don’t find any free food.”

He led Hanzo to the truck and dropped the tailgate, then paused, thinking.

“Huh. Might not be a bad idea to put our shoes inside the truck, though. Just in case.”

“Hm. A wise idea,” Hanzo said. “Especially if your boots smell like something long dead.”

“Aw, Han. You’re killin’ me, here.”

“Not as much as your foot odor.”

McCree put a hand to his heart as if shot, but kicked his boots off and threw them in the truck anyway, followed by his belt and gloves, though he kept the hat on. Hanzo followed suit, tossing his own boots in the truck, then followed McCree to the bed of the truck, stepping gingerly over the rocky ground in his socked feet. 

It was surprisingly cozy in the bed of the truck. The mattress was soft and the nanofibers in the solar blankets stayed comfortably warm, and Hanzo was even warmer when he settled down beside Jesse, curling beside him to look up once again at the star strewn sky.

“Thank you, Jesse,” he said softly. “This is incredible.”

McCree smiled and slid an arm around him. “Thank you kindly, darlin’. I appreciate it.”

“I am sorry I gave you such grief over this.”

“Nah. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

Unable to resist the bait, Hanzo leaned over to kiss him long and deep, both a little breathless by the time their lips finally parted.

“How was that?” He asked, allowing himself to sound a little smug as he leaned over McCree.

“It’s a start,” Jesse grinned, eyes sparkling in the starlight. 

“Then let me finish it,” he dove in for another kiss, sliding into Jesse’s embrace, happy to be alone with the man he loved and the stars above.


	15. Road Trip (3/3)

“What I don’t understand,” Hanzo said as he leaned back to hang his bare foot out the truck’s window. “is how this place can be so hot during the day and yet absolutely freezing at night.”

They were on the road back, and the mid-morning temperature was still comfortable enough for the windows to be down, so the pair took the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air while they could. Hanzo was sprawled back in the passenger seat, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and barefoot, one foot out the window and the other on the dashboard.

“It’s the humidity,” McCree explained, cigarillo between his teeth and also wearing a pair of sunglasses.

“What humidity? We’re in the middle of the desert.”

“Exactly,” he continued. “Water has a high, whatchu call it? That thing where it’s however much energy to get it to change?”

Hanzo looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a thing. A scientific term. It’s like…the amount of energy needed to get a liquid to heat up? And it’s different for each liquid?”

Hanzo had to think about it for longer than he liked to admit before it came to him. School was a very long time ago. 

“Specific heat.”

“That’s it!” Jesse grinned. “Specific heat. Well, water has a higher specific heat than anything ever, so it takes a lot of energy to get it to change temperature, right? That’s why the coast tends to have a more even year-round temperature, ‘cause it’s so humid and there’s so much water in the air so it takes a lotta work to get it to change. But you take the desert, where there’s fuck all for humidity, and it don’t take a lot to get it to heat up or cool down. Sun’s out? It’s hot. Sun’s down? It’s cold.”

“I love it when you talk science. You manage to sound intelligent despite sounding like yourself.”

“Oi!” Jesse gave him an exaggerated offended look. “You sayin’ I’m uneducated? You know, I did manage to get a bachelor’s degree after dropping out of high school.”

“Did you?” Hanzo asked, glancing over at him from over the top of his glasses, honestly surprised. “I didn’t actually know that. What in?”

“Journalism. Just ‘cause I got a particular way of speakin’ don’t mean that I can’t write like a poet.”

“Don’t tell me you wrote poetry,” Hanzo frowned at him.

“I don’t write poetry.”

“Thank God.”

“But if I did, it would be amazing.”

“It would be terrible.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I deny nothing.”

“I still hold that you were being a wimp last night,” McCree said, abruptly changing subjects, hoping to catch Hanzo off guard. It didn’t work. 

“It was freezing, even with the thermal blankets,” he huffed.

“I told you, I was more than happy to warm you up…”

“Hah,” Hanzo scoffed. “And then you got my shirt off and I almost died.”

“Oh, you did not, you big baby,” Jesse said, but there was no bite to it, only a teasing grin.

“I did. I swear this to you,” Hanzo’s voice was solemn, but he remained relaxed in his seat. “I would have frozen to death, and you would have to be the one to explain to Winston why the team was missing their best sniper.”

“Easy. I’d say that I finally got carried away and fucked you to death.”

It was enough to startle a laugh out of Hanzo, and the sound brought a grin to McCree’s face.

“You liar. You would lie about the mysterious circumstances of my untimely death to your own commander.”

“Absolutely,” McCree crooned. “It would be my revenge for not getting to make love to you under that perfect starry sky.”

“Hm,” Hanzo folded his arms and leaned back. “Find me a more romantic location than ‘the back of your truck’ and we’ll talk.”

“That a promise?”

“I’d almost call it a request,” Hanzo said coolly.

Jesse beamed and looked back over the road.

“Then it’s a date.”


	16. Snowball Fight

The storm had lasted all day and well into the night, but the cloudless morning sky showed no trace of the blizzard. The only evidence that there’d even been a storm at all was the three feet of snow that had been dumped on the base. Hanzo hadn’t minded, and had quite enjoyed watching the snow from the safety and warmth inside, but McCree had some very clear opinions on cold weather. Which was unfortunate for McCree, as the pair had been assigned to start reactivating Watchpoint: Yukon, the only Overwatch base remote enough that the UN had all but forgotten about it, and they were going to be staying here for the foreseeable future.

“Coming back to this place was a mistake,” Jesse complained, spraying another blast of deicing fluid at the Orca, trying to clear the ship enough that she would be flight worthy in the freezing temperatures. Not that they were heading anywhere soon, but it was necessary to have a vehicle be ready to evacuate at all times, in case of emergencies. “This place is out of the way, but it’s too frozen to be worth a damn. And I thought Athena had drones to take care of this shit!” He scowled at the frozen Orca, as if the chore was its fault.

“My drones are currently only equipped to remove ice and snow from the designated roads and pathways, Agent McCree,” the AI hummed from speakers somewhere unseen. “Watchpoint: Yukon was decommissioned eight years ago, and not all functionality has been restored. Therefore, I am unable to perform maintenance on the MV-261 Orca at this location.”

“Which is why we are here,” Hanzo reminded him, giving the larger man a nudge. “To restore this facility’s functionality.”

“Your assistance is greatly appreciated, Agents McCree and Shimada. You have my gratitude,” Athena’s voice continued.

Hanzo smiled behind Jesse’s back and watched him grumble under his breath, knowing his partner was trying to justify continuing to complain, but having trouble in the face of such polite appreciation from Athena. Jesse was too much of a gentleman to throw that gratitude away, especially when coming from a lady, even an artificial one. Hanzo was positive that Athena knew that, too. She was certainly manipulative when she wanted to be, and Hanzo couldn’t help but respect that.

“You’re quite welcome, Miss Athena,” Jesse grudgingly admitted. “But that don’t mean I have to like being out in this ungodly weather.”

“I would think ungodly would have been last night during the storm,” Hanzo said as he finished clearing the last of the Orca’s engines and started to roll the hoses up. 

“Oh, the storm was terrible, don’t get me wrong,” McCree said. “but any weather below freezing classifies as ungodly.”

He seemed to not notice Hanzo rolling the heavy hoses up alone, instead fretting over some snow that had worked its way down the glove over his flesh hand. Hanzo frowned. Hm. Perhaps Jesse was not so much of a gentleman when the cold was involved. 

That simply wouldn’t do.

McCree continued to fiddle with his glove, knocking the snow out and getting it securely back over his good hand, then fussed over his sleeve, trying to get it tucked snug under the glove so there wouldn’t be any gap for the cold to slip in and freeze his wrist. He grumbled as his cold prosthetic brushed against his wrist, and didn’t notice Hanzo finish putting away the large hoses alone. He also remained blissfully unaware of Hanzo calmly scooping up a handful of snow and carefully shaping it into a ball. The snow that had fallen last night had been thick and wet. No powder at all, just the good, sticky stuff.

Perfect.

“Oh, Jesse…” Hanzo called sweetly, the barest hint of a sing-song in his voice.

“Yeah, darlin’?” McCree didn’t even look up. 

That decided it. Hanzo hurled the snowball like a baseball pitcher, hitting Jesse in the back of the head with enough force to knock his hat off. 

“What in tarnation!?” McCree staggered forward from the blow, then spun around to stare at Hanzo with a look somewhere between bewilderment and betrayal.

“Ignoring your boyfriend is a dangerous game to play, Jesse McCree,” he said calmly, already forming another snowball. “Especially when you make him put away the deicing hoses alone while you are busy focusing on…what is the term you like to use? Belly-aching.”

“Aw, Han. I’m sorry. I was-”

“Too late!” Hanzo grinned like a wolf and hurled another snowball with perfect accuracy, nailing McCree right in the eye.

“Goddammit!” 

McCree hurled himself to the side, taking cover behind the equipment shed as he cleared the snow out of his face. Hanzo pressed the attack, scooping up another handful of snow and racing toward the shed. He swung around the corner, ready to plaster Jesse a third time, but found himself ambushed by a fistful of snow instead.

“Hah!” Jesse crowed as he shoved the snow further into Hanzo’s face. Hanzo retaliated by wildly throwing the snowball currently in his hand, but it flew harmlessly over Jesse’s shoulder. 

Hanzo spat out a curse through a mouthful of snow. Combat reflexes kicked in, and he knew that dropping down to get another handful of snow would leave him vulnerable, so Hanzo did the only logical thing and grabbed Jesse by the serape, threw his weight to the left, and kicked violently at Jesse’s right knee.

The knee buckled and McCree pitched to the side as he lost his balance. Not ready to be outdone so easily, McCree’s fist snapped out and caught Hanzo by the front of his jacket as he fell, yanking him down so they both collapsed into a snowdrift together. They scuffled in the snow, each trying to get to their feet while keeping the other one down.  
Finally, Hanzo managed to catch McCree by the back of his head and shove him face first into the snow, and tried to dart away. He wasn’t quite fast enough, however, and McCree lunged forward and pounced on Hanzo’s back, wrapping his prosthetic arm around Hanzo and catching him in a headlock.

Hanzo pulled futilely at the carbon steel arm around his neck, but he might have well been trying to move the Orca. 

“Damn you! The metal arm is cheating!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetness.”

Jesse kissed his cheek, then shoved Hanzo face first into the snow. Hanzo let out a muffled yell and flailed in a way that left Jesse laughing so hard that Hanzo was able to squeeze out of his grip. McCree sat back in the snow as Hanzo scrambled upright, pointing at Hanzo’s snow-covered face and letting out that deep, belly laugh Hanzo liked so much. 

“Y…ye’ve got it stuck to your eyebrows!” Jesse hooted, face red from both the cold and laughter. 

Hanzo pelted him in the mouth with another snowball, earning him a satisfying squawk.

“And you have snow in your beard,” Hanzo retaliated.

“It’s a new look I’m going for.”

“It makes you look old.”

“‘Distinguished’ is the word you’re looking for,” McCree scratched at his beard, feeling the thick, wet clumps of snow that were adhering to it and grimaced. “Though I don’t know how much I like it.”

He got to his feet, snow caked to the wool of his serape, and held a hand out for Hanzo, who accepted the help up. 

“Honest, I’m real sorry about ignoring ya, pumpkin. I get fussy about the cold, but that ain’t no excuse for neglecting you.” He bent down to scoop his hat up and put it over his heart in contrition. “Forgive me?”

Hanzo brushed snow off his suede jacket and pretended to think about it. 

“Hm…I suppose. Though perhaps if you were to make dinner tonight I might be more inclined to forgive you.”

Jesse grinned and plopped the hat back on his head.

“It’s a deal.”

“And if you cleaned up afterward.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hanzo smiled. “Dinner, then. And perhaps a hot shower afterward?” He entwined his fingers with Jesse’s as they headed back for the shelter of the base.

“Darlin’, I thought you’d never ask.”


	17. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. As Christmas Eve has snuck up on me and I’m only…halfway through prompts, we’re giving up on doing the 31 Days of McHanzo prompts in order. Completely. I’m gonna crank out what prompts I can until the end of the month, and then I’ll be taking a break from the 31 Days of McHanzo and shift gears in order to work on Reaper76 Week, which will be Jan 15 – Jan 21. After I get those done…I dunno. I’ll either go back to the 31 Days prompts, or start working on some of the other things on my ideas list. 
> 
> MEANWHILE, I am going to completely cheat on this prompt, because I totally did a fic literally called “First Impressions” and I’m going to just repost it for the First Impressions prompt. Please don’t judge my lazy ass too harshly.
> 
> Mild Language warning, and implied past sexual content for this chapter.

“Happy Anniversary, Sugarplum.”

“Happy Anniversary, Jesse.”

They hadn’t asked for any time off, not with the new Overwatch being so busy and the world falling apart around them. It wasn’t important that they do anything fancy, they had both decided, just that they share a tender moment as they marked one year together. That was the plan, at least. However, Genji somehow remembered the date that Hanzo and McCree had finally stopped dancing around the subject and admitted that they liked each other and had worked together with Lena and Winston to get them a weekend off to spend with each other. They weren’t able to go far, just to one of the beach resort hotels in Gibraltar, but it had been a touching gesture, one they both appreciated.

“Been a long year,” McCree put one arm around Hanzo as they sat on the balcony of their hotel suite and raised his glass to the sunset. Lena had tried to convince them to get a bottle of expensive wine instead of their usual bourbon and sake combination. McCree had politely told her that he was grateful for the weekend she had helped secure for him, but unless she wanted him planning her next anniversary with Emily, she’d better keep her nose out of other people’s business.

Hanzo curled up against him, nursing his sake. “A long year, but a good year.”

“Are you just saying that on my account, or has it actually been a good year?”

“Any year with you in it is a good year.”

McCree laughed softly. “Yeah, I’ll drink to that.” He promptly did so, then leaned back with a sigh. “We’ve come a long way from glaring daggers at each other from across the airstrip.”

Hanzo chuckled deep and rich from the back of his throat. “I think glaring is a strong word. I was merely scowling.”

“Honey, Genji was sure we were going to break into a fight right then and there in defense of his honor.”

“Clearly, my brother has a high opinion of himself to take all the credit for our first meeting.”

“Oh, ain’t that a truth,” McCree took another swallow of bourbon and adjusted his arm around Hanzo’s back. “Do you remember that night? When you flew in and spent your first night on the Watchpoint?”

“Of course I remember.”

“You know what I was thinking? When you got off the plane and we first met?”

“I have an idea.”

“Now, I’m not sure that you do. It ain’t what you think.”

“Then please, indulge me.”

McCree ran a finger down Hanzo’s cheek. “I was thinking that there was no way a man who had done the things you’d done could be so goddamn beautiful. It just wasn’t fair.”

“That is better than what I was imagining.”

“Well, buckle up darlin’, I ain’t finished. I knew what happened to your brother. We all did.”

“Obviously.” Hanzo replied dryly. The mention of Genji’s attempted murder was no longer such a hair trigger for him. He didn’t think he would ever truly forgive himself, but knowing that no one in Overwatch, including Genji, held it against him helped.

“And I knew you were an assassin, taking out hits on people who may or may not have deserved it. God, I wanted to hate you so bad. I wanted you to be mean and nasty with a permanent frown and brooding brows and cold eyes-”

“Please, you’re listing all my best features.”

McCree broke into that deep, belly laugh that Hanzo loved so much.

“Aw, shucks. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, darling.”

“Can I continue sharing my fond memory of the first time I laid eyes on you, or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Hanzo sniffed. “I won’t promise to hold my tongue, but continue.”

“Thank you,” he took another swig of bourbon as Hanzo did the same with his sake. “I wanted you to be the most mean and evil son of a bitch I ever did see. I wanted that beautiful face to be a lie, hiding a hideous monster inside. Instead, I found you ain’t mean at all.”

“Hah.”

“Hush up, lemme finish. You’re stern, yeah. But you ain’t cruel. At first, you come across as cold and distant. Snobby. Rude. Even arrogant.”

“That is absolutely true. I deny nothing. You’ve caught me.”

McCree continued on, ignoring Hanzo’s interruptions. “But that’s all just because you’re not strictly speaking comfortable around folk you don’t know too well. Once you open up to someone…” He smiled, admiring Hanzo with glowing brown eyes. “It’s easy to see you’re just as pretty as your face.”

He leaned in to grace Hanzo with a warm kiss. Hanzo hummed in appreciation and let it linger before breaking it with a smile brighter than sunset before them.

“That,” McCree said with a reverent tone. “That, right there.” He ran a thumb over Hanzo’s bottom lip. “The instant I saw you, I was sure you were too goddamn beautiful to be a monster. And I knew, right at that first moment, glaring at each other across the tarmac, that I would do anything if it got you to smile like that at me.”

“Interesting. I couldn’t read any of that from the brooding scowl you were sending my way.” He kissed the tip of McCree’s thumb.

“Oh, I woulda put a goddamn bullet through your head that first day if you looked like you were gonna turn on us. Don’t get me wrong. I was sure it was all some elaborate Yakuza trap or some other shit. I was still right sore about Genji.”

“So was I.” Hanzo’s voice was soft.

“I know darlin’, I know. But at the time…”

“Of course. A lifetime ago. Please, continue.” He laid his head down on McCree’s shoulder.

“I was waiting for you to show your true colors. And when you did, it wasn’t what I expected at all. It was far better than I could have ever imagined. _You_ were far better than what I could have imagined. The best ever.”

McCree couldn’t help himself and leaned in for another kiss. Hanzo held onto it, letting the seconds tick by, marveling at how far they’d both come from that first night.

“Do you want to know what I first thought of you, glowering at me from across the airstrip?” Hanzo asked once their lips had finally parted.

“I’d love to know, sugar.”

“I have told no one this.”

“I’m all ears, pumpkin.”

“When I stepped off that plane, there were a number of you there to greet me. Winston and Lena, I had met through video conference calls earlier. Genji, of course. And you. I looked at you, frowning at me as I stepped off the plane and thought…” he paused, for no other reason than dramatic emphasis for McCree’s benefit. “…this man is ridiculous.”

McCree burst into laughter.

“This man cannot be real. This is a joke,” Hanzo continued. “This man, this absurd man with his spurs and chaps and a gaudy belt and an actual cowboy hat is not a real person.” Hanzo had to raise his voice to be heard over McCree’s continued laughter. “And then I recognized your face and it was even worse. This fake man is Jesse McCree? This is the wanted outlaw, murderer, thief, and arsonist worth sixty million dollars? No. No, that was impossible. There had been some kind of terrible mistake. This could not be the real Jesse McCree.”

“What,” McCree asked, eyes still dancing with laughter. “You don’t think a wanted man can have good taste in style?”

“Your style is terrible,” Hanzo replied with another taste of sake. “But that isn’t why I thought you weren’t the outlaw I had heard about.”

“Oh? What gave me away? Or…er…didn’t give me away?”

Hanzo reached up to stroke along McCree’s cheek, running his fingers through his coarse beard. “Your eyes.”

McCree looked down at him, curious. 

“The monstrous outlaw on the news would not – _could not_ – have such kind, gentle eyes.”

McCree stared at him, stunned, while Hanzo offered a sweet smile in return.

“Aw, Han…” McCree shook off his surprise with a sheepish smile. “You’re just saying that. I was glaring at you something fierce that night.”

“I know. It is still true.”

“I wanted to shoot you.”

“And you could have. But you did not. Nor have you ever.”

“Well, except for-”

“That time does not count, and you know it.”

McCree chuckled and conceded the point. “Alright, alright.”

“You would not have hurt me unless I had endangered your friends and companions. Not a moment before,” Hanzo continued.

“Well…yeah. True.”

“And that is the mark of a kind man. Your appearance surprised me, but not nearly as much as your beautiful, kind eyes.”

Jesse McCree, Hanzo’s partner and lover for exactly one year, actually _blushed_.

“Aw, darlin’… That’s the sweetest thing I ever did hear.”

Hanzo’s hand left McCree’s cheek to rest against his thick chest. “I wanted those eyes to look at me with something other than distrust and scorn. I wanted those eyes to smile at me, soften in my direction.”

McCree kissed Hanzo on the cheek and went to finish off his glass of bourbon. Hanzo waited until he was mid-swallow before continuing. 

“I wanted to see those big, brown eyes look up at me while you sucked my cock.”

To his credit, Hanzo didn’t smirk as McCree sputtered and choked on his drink. He sat up, watching calmly with a small smile as McCree thumped on his own chest to help him through the resulting coughing fit.

“You…you little…” his voice was hoarse as bourbon burned through his lungs, far less enjoyable than the burn to his stomach. “You little shit…” 

Hanzo only smiled sweetly.

“Dammit, Hanzo…” McCree coughed again. “…Are you saying that you seriously thought…”

“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you, Jesse. I was unaware that I had a type before then, but apparently that type is large, hairy, charming, and ridiculous.”

“I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Hanzo said, finishing off his own drink and getting comfortable against McCree’s chest. “Because you swept me off my feet, cowboy. I love you.”

“I love you too, pumpkin,” He gave Hanzo a tender kiss to the forehead and poured them both a second drink. “Here’s to one year together!”

“And to all the years to come.”


	18. Christmas Eve/Last Minute Gift

Damn, damn, _dammit._

Hanzo pulled his hood up against the heavy Gibraltar rain and strode quickly down the row of shops, trying to see what was still open on Christmas Eve. Grocery stores, a game store, clothing stores, no no no… that wouldn’t do at all. Curse it all, why was Jesse so hard to shop for? 

At first glance, it seemed like finding a gift for Jesse McCree would be easy. He liked guns, Westerns, motorcycles, cooking, and horses. There was a huge plethora of gifts that fit into any number of those categories, but after dating Jesse for two years, Hanzo had learned that the man was actually unbelievably picky. He’d seen Jesse look at a plaid flannel shirt that looked _exactly_ like half the shirts Jesse already owned, and turn his nose up at it for being “too orange.” He’d seem him accept odd cowboy trinkets as gifts from other Overwatch team members with a smile, then secretly admit to Hanzo in private that he had no idea what he was supposed to do with them.

“The thought is awful sweet, an’ I love that they thought of me, but where in the hell am I supposed to put a Clint Eastwood bobblehead? On my dresser? On the truck’s dashboard? It’d drive me nuts!”

The problem was that Jesse wasn’t a big fan of change. He loved his belt buckle and his hat, so getting a new belt buckle or hat would be an atrocity. There was always the option of trying to find out what Jesse had that he wasn’t attached to, so Hanzo could get a better replacement, but Jesse was so damn laid back that he typically didn’t complain. Hanzo wasn’t sure if it was because Jesse didn’t want to make a fuss and bother people over something he felt didn’t matter or if it was a result of his years alone on the run, getting used to making due with what he had. Probably a little of both. 

Either way, it meant that Hanzo had spent the last month looking for a Christmas present for Jesse without success, which left him scrambling through Gibraltar’s wet streets on Christmas Eve, hoping he could find something less-than-terrible.

The lights of a white and gold building caught his eye and Hanzo stopped in his tracks. Maybe…it was time for _that_ kind of present. 

*****

Shit, shit, goddamn, son of a bitch, _shit._

Why in the hell was Hanzo such a pain in the ass to shop for? The man had such insanely high standards for everything, it was impossible to know what he would like and what would politely accept and then quietly discard or regift at a later date. McCree liked to think that after two years he had a better handle than most people on what Hanzo did and didn’t like, and he’d looked at plenty of gifts that he was sure Hanzo would appreciate, but he wanted something more than that. He didn’t just want to get something his boyfriend would like, he wanted to give a Christmas present that would knock his socks off. So here he was, stomping through the goddamn pouring rain on Christmas Eve, looking desperately at whatever shops were still open and hoping that something would catch his eye.

The rain wasn’t improving his mood, either. It poured off the rim of his hat in rivulets and soaked through his jacket. It was even too wet to smoke. Thank God it didn’t snow in Gibraltar, or Jesse’s mood would be significantly more distraught. 

A gold and white building with a bright display window caught his attention. A jewelry store.

Well, shit. McCree stood in the rain, staring at the shop and chewing on his lip. Maybe…no. No, he shouldn’t. Should he? Was that too big of a step? They hadn’t really talked about it, but…but wasn’t it obvious? They were already attached at the goddamn hip, madly in love, and…it was the next logical step, wasn’t it? McCree would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wanted it for the past year. And didn’t Hanzo say a thing once where Christmas was more of a couple’s holiday in Japan?

It would either be perfect or a complete disaster. Much like everything in McCree’s life. He grinned and headed for the jewelry store. 

*****

This was a stupid idea, Hanzo thought as he looked at the row of glimmering rings. This was stupid and too fast and he and Jesse hadn’t even talked about it. He shouldn’t just spring this on him without at least hinting at it first. Or talking about it like adults.

Not to mention that Jesse didn’t like change. But really, what would actually change? They were already living together, everyone knew they were a couple, it wouldn’t impact their work with Overwatch, and they certainly had no plans of slowing down. Wouldn’t this just be making everything…official? Christmas was so important to Jesse, too. Wouldn’t it be appropriate to give the biggest gift he could give?

Mind made up, Hanzo followed the jeweler into a back room to discuss price and custom designs.

*****

No one was in the shop when McCree stepped in, though the door to the back room was closed. He double checked to make sure the sign in the window had indeed said they were open, and settled for browsing the available rings. 

None of these would do. His honey was too special for these premade rings. He’d definitely need a stronger material, considering their unusual occupational hazards they were faced with. Titanium or tungsten. But should he go for more of the lighter, silver alloy, or a darker gunmetal grey? He wished he could ask Hanzo, but that would just ruin the whole damn surprise. 

He fiddled with some of the display rings, sitting in a display box on the counter. Odd that they weren’t locked behind the glass display cabinet. Maybe he could get both colors. If he went with a lighter, silver tungsten as the base ring and then the design filled with a darker color, that could look magnificent. McCree already knew what he wanted for a design, and he’d had the idea for a long while. He’d have the silhouette of Hanzo’s dragons carved into the ring’s exterior and the date they met inscribed on the inside. 

The door to the back room opened.

“It’s about time! I’d like to talk to someone about getting an engagement…” He trailed off as he looked up to see the man leaving the back room with the jeweler.

It was Hanzo.

McCree’s mouth went dry and his heart did a number of interesting acrobatics in his chest while his stomach generated an unfortunate quantity of butterflies.

Hanzo froze just outside of the doorway, holding some very official looking papers in his hand and looking dumbstruck.

“You’re also here for an engagement ring, sir?” The jeweler said, oblivious. “Just one moment. Let me get this gentleman checked out and I’ll be right with you.”

“You’re…” Jesse croaked, then found he couldn’t continue. Hanzo’s eyes flicked down to the rings Jesse had clearly been examining.

“…You…you came here for…” Hanzo said, picking up where Jesse had left off.

Jesse nodded.

“You want…you’d really like to…” Hanzo clutched the papers in his fist tighter.

Jesse nodded again.

With all the agility of a battle-seasoned trained assassin, Hanzo leapt over the glass display case and caught McCree in a crushing hug, kissing him fiercely and letting warrantee papers fly everywhere.

McCree wrapped his arms securely around his fiancé (his fiancé!) and kissed him passionately back, feeling lightheaded as he processed that they’d just gotten engaged without anyone needed to get down on one knee.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Hanzo said breathlessly as their lips finally parted.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”


	19. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation off of the previous chapter, Christmas Eve. I’d recommend reading it before this one!

They celebrated the rest of Christmas Eve in their shared quarters, then spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, discussing dates, colors, and other wedding plans. McCree wanted to hyphenate, Hanzo was still on the fence about it. They still had plenty of time to work it out, as they’d both agreed that a spring wedding would be best. They fell asleep wrapped around each other with their entwined futures laid out before them.

Christmas morning was quiet. Most of the Overwatch agents left over the holidays, returning to their own homes and families, and the only ones left at the Watchpoint were Winston and themselves. 

“Mm…” Jesse rolled onto his side and draped one arm over Hanzo as his partner threatened to slide out of the bed. “What’re you doin’? It’s a perfect day to sleep in.”

“Nonsense,” Hanzo said, slipping out from under Jesse’s arm. “Winston will doubtless be making breakfast, and it would be inexcusably rude to ignore him. Get up. Get dressed.”

“I would much rather spend Christmas in bed with my fiancé,” McCree smiled. Fiancé. It felt good to say the word out loud. 

“I know,” Hanzo said, sliding on a pair of loose slacks. “Get dressed anyway.”

Jesse groaned, but crawled out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. 

“So, when are we gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“I was thinking tonight,” Hanzo said, putting on a pair of slippers. Silk slippers. God, he was high maintenance. Jesse loved him anyway. “When everyone starts arriving back at the Watchpoint.”

“Sounds like as good a time as any,” Jesse grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek before heading out with him.

The officer’s mess hall was significantly smaller than the primary mess hall, but with so few people in the new Overwatch, it seemed unnecessary to draw a distinction between who used what facilities, especially when the officer’s hall had a much better kitchen and more comfortable chairs. When they arrived, they found that Winston had indeed made breakfast for three, even though they hadn’t committed to coming. Hanzo gave Jesse an ‘I told you so’ spoken only with his eyes and one raised eyebrow.

Jesse smiled and shook his head before leading the way into the kitchen.

“Aw, Winston! You make all this for little ol’ us?”

Winston turned around, wearing an oversized Christmas sweater that Ingrid had made for him. “Oh! You made it! I, uh…just thought it might be good to have a nice breakfast for Christmas morning. You know. Just being us and all.”

“Aw, well that’s mighty kind of you,” McCree smiled, one hand lazily entwined with Hanzo’s. “What spread have we got?”

“Oh, well. I made banana-nut pancakes with scrambled eggs, and there’s also kale and carrot vegetable smoothies.”

“Kale and veggies? That don’t sound like you,” Jesse said, dropping into a seat, though he was reluctant to let Hanzo go.

Winston made a face as he handed out plates of pancakes and eggs. “The…uh…diet Dr. Ziegler is insisting upon.” He began slathering his own pancakes with peanut butter.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

McCree laughed and started pouring syrup over his own pancakes. “I hear ya.”

“Just as we do not speak of Dr. Zeigler’s recommendations for Jesse’s smoking habits,” Hanzo said.

“Or your drinking habits,” McCree countered with a grin, and took Hanzo’s hand again, giving it a squeeze. Hanzo couldn’t help but smile and leaned in for a kiss. Several long moments of gentle kisses and sweet words passed between them before they realized Winston was quite definitely still there. And staring, a fork halfway to his lips.

“Oh. Er…” McCree laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that. We’re just excited, is all.”

Winston’s golden eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them from behind his glasses. 

“Excited about what?” He asked slowly and suspiciously. 

Hanzo stiffened and McCree coughed nervously. “Oh…ah…well…we just…um… Just some good news to share is all.”

Hanzo shot him a warning look.

“Good news?” Winston asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, we were planning on waiting until everyone got back, so…”

Winston’s eyes shot to both of their left hands, then looked back up at them.

“I don’t see any rings.”

Both men sat ridged in their chairs.

“Why would you assume-” Hanzo barked at the same time McCree shouted “How did you know?!” They looked at each other, then Hanzo put his face in his hands in defeat.

“Wait,” Winston said, pointing at them. “So you’re actually…”

“Yeah,” McCree grinned sheepishly. “We were saving the announcement for tonight, but we’re getting hitched.”

He had expected Winston to cheer, or politely congratulate them, or even warn them about how this could endanger Overwatch Operations. What McCree wasn’t expecting was for Winston to lean over the table to look very intently between the two of them.

“Who proposed?” He asked, dead serious. 

“Uh,” McCree said, a little intimidated by a five hundred pound gorilla looming over him, no matter how well he knew Winston. “Neither of us?”

Winston’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“We both independently decided to get engagement rings last night,” Hanzo explained, looking just as unnerved as Jesse felt. “We met in the jewelry store. That’s why we don’t have our rings yet. They’re still on order.”

“So…wait. Neither of you proposed to the other?”

Jesse and Hanzo exchanged a look.

“No?”

“It was just sorta…mutual engaging,” McCree said.

Winston pushed back and leaned back in his chair with a disgusted moan, putting his massive hands over his face.

“What?” McCree asked, feeling like he should be offended, but not quite sure what for. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you have any idea how much money was riding this?”

“I beg your pardon?” Hanzo asked, looking likewise affronted.

Winston sighed and dropped his hands, taking a big bite of pancake. “There’s been a running bet for the past…” he thought for a moment. “How long, Athena?”

“The bet was first initiated by Agent Tracer and Agent Genji seven months and four days ago,” The AI chimed in over the speakers.

“Yes. Seven months. For seven months, people have been placing bets as to which of you was going to cave first and finally propose. There was…quite a lot of money involved. I know Lena had at least seventy-five pounds riding on Hanzo being the one to ask.”

“Are you telling me,” Hanzo interrupted, slamming his hand on the table as he glowered at Winston. “that my own brother bet against me? That Jesse would be the one to ask?”

“That would be correct,” Winston said, adjusting his glasses and returning his attention to his pancakes. 

“How _dare_ he?”

Jesse grinned. “And now nobody wins? Because nobody asked?”

“Looks that way,” Winston said.

“What about you, who did you bet on, Winston?”

“Me?” he glanced up. “Oh, I didn’t place a bet. I abstained to be mediator. The arguments were getting…heated.”

“How much was in the pot?” Jesse asked, leaning forward in interest.

“Athena?”

“The total amount of currency riding in the betting pool for the theoretical proposal between Agent McCree and Agent Hanzo amounts to a total of eight hundred forty-three United States dollars.”

McCree leaned back in his chair and broke into unrestrained laughter.

Hanzo stared at Winston. “That is…a great deal.”

“Exactly,” Winston said. “There’s going to be a lot of disappointed people.”

“And that,” Jesse said, taking Hanzo’s hand in his. “is the greatest revenge for people trying to turn our relationship into a game. And that there is the best Christmas present of all.”

Hanzo smiled and kissed the back of Jesse’s hand. “You know, I think I’m quite excited for the party tonight.”

“You and me both, pumpkin.”

Winston held his tongue, but smiled as they returned to their breakfast.


	20. Mistletoe (1/2)

No one confessed to bringing the mistletoe to the Holiday Party, but it was only up for a few hours before Genji stole it and started using it to deliberately trap people beneath it. He managed to catch Angela and Reinhardt, who exchanged a pair of polite kisses on the cheek, next catching Lucio and Hana by the punch bowl. The celebrities took to the idea better than Genji could have hoped, snapping their phones out and taking selfies of their enthusiastic open-mouthed kiss before laughing and sharing them on their various social media platforms. Genji had even tried to include Bastion, trying to get it and Orisa together, and had howled with laughter when the little bird Ganymede had giving Bastion a literal peck on the cheek instead.

The tables turned on him when Genji tried to catch McCree and Mei, and McCree managed to steal the mistletoe instead. After a laugh and already a few drinks in, McCree came up with the brilliant idea of tying the mistletoe to the brim of his hat and spent the next hour laughing, joking, drinking, and flirting shamelessly with anyone who got too close. He managed to get Satya to accept a chaste kiss on the back of her hand and give Zenyatta a kiss on the faceplate, even after the omnic had teased back and played coy. Flirting with Zarya proved to be loud, hilarious, and unexpectedly successful, and he followed it up by giving her a reverent kiss on one of her massive flexed biceps to the cheers of the crowd they’d gathered.

McCree excused himself from the crowd and wandered over to the refreshment table, giving himself a break. It was a few minutes before he felt eyes on him, and finally found Hanzo watching him with a stern expression. 

“Good evening there, Hanzo,” he grinned with a tip of his hat, making the mistletoe bounce. “Careful now, get too close and you might get more than you bargained for.” His tone was light, but despite all the flirting he’d done over the course of the evening, only Hanzo’s cool gaze sent his heart fluttering. 

The last thing he wanted do is ruin his friendship with the archer by doing a damn fool thing, but oh, it was tempting. He’d been pining after Hanzo for months, and now he had him relatively alone, with mistletoe dangling between them.

Hanzo finally pulled his gaze away to look out over the milling crowd of Overwatch Agents and their families. 

“Hm. I’ve been watching you,” he said. 

McCree poured himself a drink in an attempt to cover up how his heart stumbled over itself at Hanzo’s words.

“Oh?” he asked when his voice could form words again, trying to sound casual.

“For how long you’ve paraded around your new ornament, you haven’t actually given anyone a proper kiss,” Hanzo frowned.

“Aw, sure I have. Though you said you’d been watching.”

“Little pecks on the cheek or hand don’t count,” Hanzo looked back at him, folding his arms. “Perhaps you are not as charming as you think.”

“Oh, I’m plenty charming, pumpkin. I just ain’t one for forcing a kiss when it’s unwanted.”

“Is that so?” Hanzo asked. He was closer. When had Hanzo moved closer? Jesse swore he was a good five paces away a second ago. Now he was close enough to reach up and flick the mistletoe dangling from his hat, sending it swinging back and forth. “And yet you wear this.”

“Just ‘cause someone else don’t want a kiss don’t mean that I’m opposed to the idea,” Jesse grinned. God. Hanzo was close enough that Jesse could see the flecks of grey in his eyebrows and beard.

“In that case, you are wearing this as…an advertisement?” Hanzo moved in closer, his deep brown eyes locking with McCree’s. “…an invitation?”

Oh hell. This was just a joke, right? He wasn’t…he wouldn’t really…

“Darlin’, that’s exactly what it is,” McCree managed to drawl with a lopsided grin, heart pounding in his chest. Surely Hanzo didn’t actually…

He did.

Hanzo caught him by the front of his plaid shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. And not a chaste kiss, either. Hanzo’s lips were warm and strong, and his breath tasted like sake. McCree couldn’t help himself and chased that taste downward, tongue sliding between Hanzo’s willing lips, only to find that Hanzo was doing the same. A strangled sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh caught in Jesse’s throat as their kiss deepened and he found himself wrapping his arms around Hanzo. He was rewarded by feeling the tension ease out of Hanzo’s back.

All too soon, Hanzo gently pulled his lips away, letting out a soft sigh before planting a second, much more chaste kiss on McCree’s lower lip and finally pulling back, sliding out of McCree’s embrace. McCree stared at him, eyes glazed and feeling punch-drunk and spacey, hardly able to believe that any of what had just happened was real.

“Hm. Not bad,” Hanzo said, and calmly snatched the mistletoe off Jesse’s hat. “Perhaps I shall save this for later. Come find me after the party, cowboy.” 

He turned around without a word and walked off, vanishing into the crowd and left McCree starting after him, jaw open.

Hot damn. Some invitation.


	21. Hangover (2/2)

_Oh God._

Merciful sleep began to lose its hold on McCree’s consciousness and he was cruelly forced back into the realm of the awake.

_Oh God in Heaven, grant me peace and end my life immediately._

The awake and hungover, that is.

McCree didn’t open his eyes. Couldn’t open his eyes. He could feel the looming headache crawling around the edges of his brain like a fog, not yet unbearable, but he had the nagging feeling that if he was dumb enough to open his eyes, that fog would turn into shrapnel and shred the inside of his skull. No, it was safer to just not move. Possibly to never move again, for the rest of his life, ever. 

Hell. He ached, too. He felt sore all through his arms and shoulders, down his back and into his thighs. What did he even _do_ last night? Nope. Best not think about it. Too much thinking was going to turn his headache into a skullfucking migraine. He was just going to lay here and cling to his pillow until the hangover passed.

His pillow took a deep breath.

McCree’s eyes snapped open and light seared into his brain like a goddamn javelin made out of fucking lasers, the forefront of the migraine that came crashing down around him. He groaned and buried his face into the pillow.

No. Not pillow. This was someone’s stomach. Someone’s bare stomach. 

What in the hell?

The searing light that had blinded him revealed itself to just be sunlight filtering in through closed blinds, though his hangover had made it feel much brighter. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out that his head was pillowed on a firm stomach with a very nice set of abdominal muscles. He’d drooled on them in his sleep. Hell.

Against his better judgement, he slowly crawled his gaze upward, taking in a thick, muscular arm that attached to a broad chest with impressive pectorals that McCree would have recognized anywhere. The left was covered by a familiar blue tattoo. Dreading what he would find, McCree raised his aching head enough to find Hanzo’s familiar face looking down at him, hair undone, eyes bloodshot, and looking just as shocked and hungover as McCree felt. They stared at each other for a very long moment before he felt compelled to break the silence.

“Hanzo,” McCree said cautiously. 

“McCree,” Hanzo replied, just as guarded. His voice was rough and hoarse, but McCree’s was no better.

“We…um…” He struggled to find something to say that wasn’t stating the obvious, and finally tried to trace back to what led him here. “You…uh…remember much of last night?”

Hanzo started to shake his head, but grimaced as his own migraine took issue with the motion. “…No.”

“Me neither.”

A beat passed in silence.

“…I am naked,” Hanzo said flatly, stating the obvious when McCree wouldn’t.

McCree had the decency not to look down, even though every fiber in his being that wasn’t distracted by pain wanted to. “I…uh…guess we had some fun.”

“You are still wearing pants.”

“Maybe not too much fun, then.”

“McCree…” There was a hint of a growl in Hanzo’s voice.

Jesse took the hint and forced himself to move, despite the protests of his aching head and body. His good elbow popped and his back complained, but he rolled off Hanzo and forced himself to sit up on the bed. He tactfully looked around the room while Hanzo hastily covered himself with a sheet. 

“I don’t recognize this. Is this your room?” 

“Yes,” Hanzo said. “…And I believe this is your hat.”

McCree snapped his gaze to him. Sitting on the pillows beside where Hanzo’s head had been laying was indeed his hat, as if it had fallen off during the night.

“Are you telling me that you were naked in bed wearing only my hat at some point last night? And I was too drunk to remember it?” he groaned.

Hanzo gave him an indecipherable look. “What do you remember?”

McCree frowned, thinking. “I remember the Christmas Party… Genji runnin’ around with the mistletoe…having a few drinks…then I stole the mistletoe…flirted a bit…and then…uh…” he gave Hanzo a sideways look. McCree definitely remembered that. He’d die before he’d let that memory go. “You kissed me.”

Hanzo tensed beside him. “You did not protest.”

“Darlin’, protesting was the last thing on my mind at that moment. Hell, I wish it could have gone on forever.”

Hanzo gave him a startled look, but McCree continued.

“You said to meet you after the party, so I stuck around. Few other things happened… Rein arm wrestling Zarya… Mei making it snow inside…I had a few more drinks…” He frowned, trying to remember. “And then it starts getting fuzzy. I remembered people clearing out…and you were on the balcony…”

“I remember waiting for you,” Hanzo said. “We talked, though I don’t remember what about.”

“I think we were flirting,” McCree said. “Probably really stupid drunk flirting.”

“I kissed you again,” Hanzo said decisively. McCree made a distressed sound.

“I don’t remember that part!” he cringed as his own voice grew loud enough for his migraine to protest. “…We kissed twice and I only get to remember one of ‘em?”

Hanzo gave him that strange look again, then glanced away. “I don’t remember after that. I don’t know how we got from the balcony to here,” he frowned and looked around the room. “Or where our clothes are. They aren’t here.”

McCree looked around, and found that there indeed weren’t any clothes strewn across the floor.

“Except your pants.”

“And my hat.”

“And your hat.”

“So…uh…are our clothes just…littered from here to the west balcony? Waiting for someone to find ‘em?” McCree asked.

Hanzo groaned and sank back down into the bed, grabbing McCree’s hat and using it to cover his eyes. “I don’t want to think about that right now. It is too early and my head hurts too much and it is too bright to deal with that.”

McCree shifted uncomfortably on the bed. There were a number of questions still hanging in the air between them and he didn’t know how to approach them, so he took the safest one first.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Hanzo was silent for a moment, then shifted so one brown eye peeked from behind the brim of McCree’s hat. “…Do you want to leave?”

“No,” McCree said, perhaps just a little too quickly. 

“Then stay,” Hanzo said, as if it were that simple.

McCree remained where he was, sitting splay-legged on Hanzo’s bed, while Hanzo wore nothing more than a sheet and his own hat beside him. He managed to last a solid forty seconds before he snapped and started running his mouth.

“Han, I know this ain’t the best time, what with both of us nursing a hangover bigger than Torb’s ego, but I gotta say it. Now that we ain’t drunk, now that we’re alone, with no one watching, no interruptions, no excuses, can…can I kiss you again?” He pretended there wasn’t a quaver in his voice at the soft plea. Instead of giving Hanzo time to answer, he barreled onward, babbling out of fear that the answer might not be what he wanted. “I mean, I was real happy with that first one, and it ain’t fair that I don’t remember the second, not to mention how we came to be in various stages of undress in your bed, but I’ve been makin’ eyes at you for a long time and I just figured nothing would come of it and I didn’t wanna jeopardize our friendship if you didn’t feel the same and-”

“ _Jesse._ ” 

McCree shut up. He couldn’t recall Hanzo ever calling him by his first name before and the shock of it combined with Hanzo’s stern tone was enough to startle him into silence.

Hanzo sat up slowly, tipping the hat back so it sat properly on his head.

“If I did not want you here, do you think I would have allowed you to stay? Here? Half naked in my bed?”

“Well…” McCree said slowly. “If you were tired enough. Or too hung over to want to deal with it.”

“Good points, but both unnecessary in this situation,” he said, sliding closer to rest a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “While it is an entirely valid concern that we may have…ah…moved a little fast under the influence of alcohol, that ridiculous mistletoe gave me the excuse I needed to…what is the phrase in English? ‘Make a move?’”

Jesse stared at him. “You…are you telling me that you…you’ve been…”

Hanzo smiled warmly. “Yes. Your infatuation has been far from one sided. I admit, if I had known you had felt this way, I would have done something far sooner.”

“Really?” He didn’t know whether to laugh with joy or sob with relief. Hanzo liked him. Hanzo _liked_ him. Hanzo had been looking for an excuse to _kiss_ him.

“Yes, really,” Hanzo grabbed the hat and plopped it back on McCree’s head, then leaned forward to give him a brief, but passionate kiss that left Jesse’s head reeling. “Now stop looking like a child on Christmas morning and go back to sleep. My head is killing me and it is far too early to deal with this.” 

Hanzo sank back down into the bed and rolled onto his side, his back to McCree, getting the sheet settled around him. Jesse’s own migraine was still throbbing through his skull, but he still felt somehow better as he settled down into the bed behind Hanzo, draping his prosthetic arm over Hanzo’s waist and settling comfortably against his back. He nestled his face in the crook between Hanzo’s neck and shoulder and placed a tender kiss against the soft skin. 

“This alright? Or too fast?”

“Mm,” Hanzo said non-committally, but settled back against McCree’s chest, getting comfortable. 

“I’m a’gonna take that as a yes,” McCree said, kissing the back of Hanzo’s neck. 

Hanzo hummed pleasantly, but didn’t open his eyes. “Go back to sleep, Jesse. I am exhausted and we will have plenty of time to discuss our new relationship later.”

“Relationship…” McCree said slowly with wonder, then sighed happily and nuzzled into the back of Hanzo’s shoulder. “I do believe I like the sound of that.”

It would be a long while before they felt human enough to get out of bed, but being together helped their hangovers seem not quite so bad.


	22. New Year's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I’ve got nine prompts left on the 31 Days of McHanzo list, but I’m going to take a break from them to work on the upcoming Reaper76 week. I’ll get back to these…uh…eventually, but I’m kind of excited for the change of pace. And as much as I love McHanzo, I’d love to work on something else after a solid month of it. I also have a few WIPs floating around I’d like to work on and I have a new project coming up, too!

It was small and intimate, compared to previous New Year’s Eve parties that had been held in the Watchpoint. In the past, there had been dozens of agents and even more foot soldiers, drinking, dancing, and celebrating. This year, there were only a handful of agents, and the party was significantly tamer. They had broken out whatever alcohol they could get their hands on, of course, and anyone who could cook had come together to make a magnificent spread of delightful foods to snack on all night. Winston had managed to find some old decorations boxed away in the back of the Watchpoint storage units, trying to bring a little more cheer into the room.

Though also small, the Christmas Party had been a loud, raucous affair. The New Year’s Eve Party, however, somehow felt more…somber. There was conversation and drinking and music, but the smiles were little strained and the laughter just a hair too forced.

“Been a shit year,” McCree finally said what everyone was thinking as they gathered around the holoscreen, watching the countdown to the new year. Five minutes to go. “And I don’t much fancy how next year is looking, either.”

Conversation slowed and the forced smiles finally dropped as the agents took a moment to absorb his words.

“Aye,” Torbjorn agreed after a long moment. “That it has.”

“It has been hard on all of us,” Mei said quietly, looking down at her mug of hot cocoa. She ran a thumb over the murloc design and thought of five other mugs standing empty in Antarctica. “We’ve lost so many people…”

“The Helix Prison break. Doomfist’s return,” Genji said, faceplate off and perched on the back of the couch. “The attack on Numbani.” 

“Talon’s rise to power,” Lena said slowly, and leaned into Emily as she put an arm around her comfortingly. 

“That asshole Petras gunning for our arrests,” McCree added.

“And the worldwide rise of the Second Omnic Crisis,” Winston sighed. “It’s true. A lot has happened this year, and not all of it was good.”

He looked around at the small gathering and brought himself to his impressive full height, holding his little glass of champagne between two massive fingers. 

“But look around,” he said, face firming with determination. “Look at how much good this year has brought us.”

Most of the group didn’t look convinced, glancing uneasily around at each other.

“Well…” Emily finally said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Lena and I got engaged. So that’s something.” 

A brilliant smile rose on Lena’s face and melted away her gloomy look like a sunrise after a storm. “That’s right, luv! Nothing could put a damper on that!”

“We…have made some new friends,” Mei gave Zarya a furtive glance before looking away with a blush on her cheeks.

“That’s right!” Lucio jumped to his feet. “I would have never met any of you without all the awful stuff that happened this year. And now I feel like I’m doing some real good in the world!”

“And it has been an honor and privilege to help with the rise of such new heroes,” Reinhardt said fondly, putting a giant hand on both Lucio and Hana’s shoulders. 

“We have…” Hanzo surprised himself by speaking up and didn’t make eye contact with anyone, staring at the sake he cupped in both hands. “…reunited with family we thought long gone. And for that, I am grateful.”

McCree put a gentle, comforting hand on Hanzo’s back while Genji beamed at him from across the room, eyes suspiciously wet.

“We have our family back, and nothing will ever break it apart again,” Winston said with determination. “No matter what trials are thrown our way, if we work together, we can overcome them. What this year has brought us is _hope._ ”

“Hey!” Hana pointed at the screen. “Twelve seconds! Eleven!”

“Ten!”

Genji leapt to his feet, though Zenyatta continued to float peacefully beside him.

“Nine!”

Torbjorn hastily ran to refill his drink, ignoring Ingrid’s laughter behind him.

“Eight!”

Hana and Lucio scrambled to snap their phones out, getting their social medias ready to record.

“Seven!”

Mei shyly slid closer to Zarya, blushing and looking away. Zarya did the same.

“Six!”

Lena entwined her fingers with Emily’s.

“Five!”

Fareeha flopped heavily into the couch beside Angela, grinning wide.

“Four!”

Satya, on the outskirts of the crowd, drew in closer, getting more relaxed around the team with every day.

“Three!”

McCree wrapped one arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Two!”

Winston smiled fondly at the group counting down. His group. His family. His Overwatch.

“One!”

Cheers erupted through the room as the holoscreen showed fireworks that were going off somewhere else in the world. McCree pulled Hanzo into a deep kiss.

“Happy New Year, Jesse.”

“Happy 2078, pumpkin.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can also hit me up at [my writing tumblr!](dabbledrabbleprose.tumblr.com)


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